


I go through so many phases that I swear I’m the moon

by likewinning



Series: even if we call it madness later [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: #UGHBRUCE, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tim Drake is the new pastry chef at an upscale restaurant in Gotham, Jason is heartbroken at being replaced, and everyone sleeps with everyone. Or: the one with the restaurant AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I go through so many phases that I swear I’m the moon

**Author's Note:**

> Title quote from [here](http://wnq-writers.com/post/116607202255/quotes-creative-writing-wordsnquotes). Thanks to ohmcgee for listening to me bitch about this for like a month. love you the most, dollface <3

"So, I'm back," Jason says.

"Ah," Dick says.

"Ah? I've been gone for six months and all you've got to say is 'ah'?"

"Well, it's just…" Jason hears change rattling; Dick's probably counting the money while he has Jason on speakerphone. Bruce must not be in the restaurant tonight – he'd never let Dick get away with that shit. "You were gone for a long time, Jason."

"Six months," Jason says.

"Well, exactly." Jason hears Dick type some numbers into the calculator. "I mean, what did you think, that we were just going to go that long without a pastry chef around here?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jason asks. He was gone for a while; he didn't _die_. Two months in France, three in Italy, six weeks in New York and then a long vacation in Rio. Sure, he didn't answer anyone's calls during that time, and he deleted half of Bruce's e-mails, but it's not like –

"I thought Alfred was going to cover while I was gone," he says.

"Yeah, because you said you'd be gone four _weeks_." Dick sighs, and Jason can tell by the shuffling that he's counting bills now. "I'm happy you're back, Jay. You should stop by and see everyone. But we hired a new guy."

Jason hangs up, tosses his phone at the wall, then picks it back up. He calls Barbara and starts to bitch, but Barbara cuts him off. "Listen, punk," she says. "You've been gone all this time and I didn't get so much as a _postcard_. I'm sorry Bruce decided you weren't indispensible, but the new kid's pastries are to die for, so maybe suck it up and start looking somewhere else. You're qualified enough."

He waits to make sure Barbara is done yelling at him, then says, "You got mean while I was gone."

"I've always been mean," she says. "You just forget because every time you see me you're too busy trying to get in my pants to notice."

"Right, must be it," Jason snorts. "So when _am_ I going to see you?"

Barbara laughs. "Don't feel so bad, Jason. I know what it's like to get replaced."

"Yeah, but you were just a hostess –"

"Excuse me," Barbara says. "I was the _best_ goddamn hostess. I made that place what it _is_."

"Sorry," Jason says. "I just mean – it was never, like, what you actually wanted to do."

Barbara sighs. "Did you really want to work for Bruce your whole life?"

"Well, no, but –"

"Just go see him, Jason. And then come over and bake me something. I feel like I lost ten pounds while you were gone."

"Will do," Jason promises.

"Something foreign and pretentious, okay?" Barbara asks. "The new kid's good, but he's pretty traditional."

"You got it," Jason says.

 

*

 

Steph makes a high pitched noise when Jason walks into the restaurant. One minute she's writing down a reservation, and the next minute she's got her arms wrapped tight around Jason in a way that can't be good for his internal organs.

Then she pulls away and punches him in the stomach.

" _Ow_ ," Jason says. "Hi to you too, Steph."

"Asshole," Steph says, slugging him in the arm. "You could've fucking called."

"Language, Miss Brown," Alfred says as he passes by, but when he sees who Steph's talking to, he adds, "On second thought, carry on. You are quite correct." He still comes over to give Jason a warm smile and offers to make him something on the house for lunch.

"Maybe another time, Alfred," Jason says. "I'm not sure I'm staying. I – heard you guys replaced me."

"There's no replacing _you_ , Jason," Alfred says.

"Except literally," Steph says. 

"Quite," Alfred agrees. "It is very good to see you, Jason." He pats Jason on the shoulder and starts back toward the kitchen. "It certainly wouldn't have hurt you to call, however."

"Everyone's a critic," Jason says.

"That's what you get for leaving us high and dry, asshole," Steph says. "I've been craving those dumb rainbow cookies you make for months."

"They're called macarons, heathen," Jason says. 

"Whatever. My body needs them, Jason. Get on it."

"Uh," Jason says. "I don't work here anymore, Steph. Replaced, remember?"

"But you're here to talk to Bruce, right?" Steph asks. "I mean, I bet you he'll give you a job. Or at least some killer references. Even if you did walk out on us during one of the biggest events we've ever _had_ -"

"Steph –"

"And smashed up that really pretty cake –"

" _Steph._ "

"Not that I'm mad, or anything. When I broke up with Conner I had a bonfire with all his t-shirts."

"Really?" Jason asks. "How'd making him go around shirtless work out for you?"

"Fucked him again," Steph says, shrugging. One of the people waiting for a table looks up at her, wide-eyed. "Such is life. Anyway, Bruce is in the cave if you want to go see him."

"Thanks," Jason says. The cave – Bruce's office – isn't by the kitchen, but set further back. Jason's always suspected it's because if anyone has a grievance, they're sure to run into someone else before they get to Bruce, but it's made things easier over the years.

He doesn't bother knocking. The security cameras are in _this_ office, and he's sure Dick told Bruce that he called.

Still, he's not expecting Bruce to look so – Bruce. He expected Bruce to fight with him, to bitch at him like everyone else has done so far, but when Jason steps into the office Bruce turns in his chair to look at him and Bruce's face just lights _up_.

Jason takes a breath. "Hey," he says.

"How have you been?" Bruce asks.

"I've been – good," Jason says. He leans back against the door, taps his fingers against the wood. This was a mistake. "I heard you found someone new," Jason says, and he hates that it sounds like – that.

"Tim," Bruce agrees. He's looking Jason over, _inspecting_ like he's a piece of fruit that may have gone bad. "He's very good, Jason. Or at least that's what everyone tells me." Bruce's mouth twitches into a smile, and Jason feels himself wanting to lean forward – "You know I've never had much of a sweet tooth."

"You always ate the things I made you," Jason says.

"Mm," Bruce agrees. Jason remembers how when he was starting out he'd bake at Bruce's place, how he'd cover the kitchen in frosting and flour and sugar and Bruce wouldn't complain, wouldn't say a word, just licked the icing off Jason's mouth, brushed the powdered sugar out of his hair. He remembers the first éclairs he burned, the croissants that always seemed too airy or too hard, the crepe suzettes that nearly set Bruce's kitchen on fire. And Bruce just kept letting him practice until he got things right, helped him buy ingredients when he was out of cash, showed him where the fire extinguisher was under the sink.

Jason looks away, tries to find anything else in this tiny office to distract himself, but nothing's really changed since he left. "It's a fucking sauna in here, Bruce," he says.

"We can go outside if you'd like," Bruce says. He starts to stand, and Jason stops him. He knows if Bruce gets any closer there's a good chance he'll do something _stupid_ , something –

He left for a reason. He did.

"No," Jason says. "That's okay. I'm not staying long."

"Oh," Bruce says.

"Oh? I'm gone six months, and that's all you can say?"

Bruce's lips twitch again. "When I asked Dick how you sounded over the phone, he did say you seemed to be the same as ever."

"Fuck off, Bruce," Jason snaps. "This was a mistake." He reaches for the door handle, but Bruce reaches for his _hand_ , and Jason freezes.

"I have a lot to say, Jason," Bruce says. He's standing up now, and there's not enough goddamn room in this closet of an office. Jason feels cornered, feels – "It's only I'm still not sure if you're ready to listen. So let me just say I'm –"

"Save it," Jason says. He squeezes Bruce's hand in his before he pulls away. "That's not why I'm here, all right?"

"Then why are you here, Jason?" Bruce hasn't shaved in a few days; Jason wants to reach up and rub his fingers against the stubble there, rub his cheek against the bristles. He knows when Bruce starts to look a little less than pristine it means he's stressed, means people have been calling in too much or there haven't been enough customers, or.

Before Jason left Bruce had almost a full beard going.

"I just," Jason says. "I came to see if I could use you for a reference. You know, for when I start looking for work."

Bruce sits back down, but he keeps his eyes on Jason. "There's always a place for you here, Jason."

"Uh," Jason says. "Actually, there's not. You gave my job away, remember?"

He can tell by the look on his face Bruce is trying not to argue with him. "Yes," Bruce says. "But you know how to do many things here. Alfred can always use help, and if Tim feels comfortable with it you could work with him."

"And then maybe I'll apprentice with the new busboys, too," Jason scoffs.

"You started out as a busboy," Bruce says.

"Yeah," Jason says. "Slept my way up to the top, right?"

Bruce shakes his head. "It was never like that, Jason. You were talented. A natural."

"You talking about my pastry skills or head-giving skills there, Bruce?" Jason asks. He can't help it. Six months, and every part of him, even the parts that know why he left, why he had to leave – everything in him just wants to lean forward and kiss Bruce hello, wants to get on his knees, wants to get in Bruce's _lap_ and just –

"Will you think about coming back to work here?" Bruce asks. He looks so sincere, blue eyes all lit up with the kind of affection Jason had been trying to find for weeks before he left.

"I'll think about it," Jason lies. "Look, I've gotta – I'll see you Bruce, okay?" Bruce nods, and instead of going through the whole restaurant again Jason heads out the back way. The second he's outside, he lights a cigarette, and he doesn't notice he has company until he hears someone say, "Hey."

He glances over, and leaning against the wall a few feet away from him there's another guy – dark hair, small, not smoking but just messing with his phone. "Hey," Jason says. The guy looks young, twenty at the oldest. Jason figures he's a waiter; the turnover for them was always too quick for Jason to keep up.

"This isn't bothering you, is it?" Jason asks, meaning his cigarette. "I mean, I can head down a little ways." Once he figures out how the hell to walk a straight line again. Fucking - _Bruce._

"It's fine," the guy says. He tucks his phone into his back pocket, offers Jason a small smile. "Smoke away," he says. "I just came out here for some air while it's quiet in there."

"I hear that," Jason says. "I don't think I know you. You a new server?"

"Uh," the guy says. "No, I've been here a couple months now, actually. I'm the new pastry chef."

"Oh," Jason says. He feels the breath go out of him again. "You're him. Tim, right?"

"Yeah," Tim says. He steps a little closer to Jason. "Look, I wanted to introduce myself before when you were talking to Bruce, but I didn't want to interrupt you guys if –"

"There's nothing to interrupt," Jason says.

"Right," Tim says. "I didn't mean it like – I didn't mean it like anything."

"Okay," Jason says. He needs to go, but he also needs to smoke about three more cigarettes, and he's _trapped_.

"It's none of my business," Tim says. "I just wanted to meet you, because everyone's always saying how great you were, even though –"

"You're exactly his type, you know that?" Jason interrupts.

"What?" Tim asks. Jason moves in, prods him in the chest. He's got at least six inches and twenty pounds on this kid. Tim's eyes widen, and Jason sucks on the last of his cigarette before he flicks it away.

"Dark hair, blue eyes," Jason says. "He's so fucking predictable. I should've known."

"Oh," Tim says. " _Oh_. Jason, I'm not – I just work here."

"Uh-huh," Jason says. "Sure you do."

Tim's expression goes from startled to angry, lip curling up as he pushes past Jason. "Look. Just because you had to fuck the boss doesn't mean everyone does. Some people have actual _qualifications_." He pulls the door open. "It was _really_ nice meeting you, Jason," he says, and walks back into the restaurant.

Jason doesn't bother going back in. He pulls out his cell phone, hits two on his speed dial, and when Bruce picks up he says, "Put me on the schedule starting Monday. You can pay me whatever you want," and hangs up.

 

* 

 

On Monday, Jason "accidentally" turns the oven up to 450 degrees and burns the banana bread Tim was making. Tim throws the bread out and starts on something else.

Tuesday morning, Jason knocks every single blueberry Tim was planning on using for blueberry tarts onto the floor, then invites half the staff into the kitchen for an impromptu meeting before Tim can stop everyone from stepping on them. Tim cleans up and makes raspberry tarts instead.

On Wednesday, Jason calls in sick. The night before he agreed to help Tim make five hundred petit fours for a catering event, but instead of getting a good night's rest beforehand, he calls Roy and they spend the night bar hopping. "It's fine," Tim grits out when Jason calls to tell him he won't be in. "I'll just get Dick to help me or something."

Later, Steph texts him a picture of the two hundred and fifty petit fours that Dick managed to drop on the floor with the (needless, Jason's been here longer than almost everyone) reminder that _this is why we don't let Dick near the food._ If it's any consolation, the pastries _do_ look spectacular.

Thursday afternoon Jason helps Tim make baklava. He chops up all the almonds and walnuts for him, even makes conversation with Tim while they work. They talk about music, and where Tim went to culinary school, and how many dishes Kara's going to break before Bruce fires her. 

Then, when the baklava's out of the oven and Tim's finished pouring the syrup over it, Jason fucks the entire dish up by cutting into it immediately and trying a bite. Everything flakes apart.

Tim punches him mid-chew, so hard Jason hits the ground and stabs himself on a piece of broken glass that Kara must have missed when she was cleaning up.

"Wow, replacement," Jason says, "You've got some _bite_."

"You're an asshole," Tim tells him, but he offers him a hand up, and after Jason washes himself off Tim helps bandage his hand. "You know you deserved that, right?" he asks.

"Yeah," Jason says. "But it was kind of worth it. I _knew_ you weren't as nice as everyone's always saying."

Tim snorts. "I think you've got _nice_ confused with _not a psycho._ "

Jason grins. "It's easy to mix those up."

"Look." Tim shoves the first aid kit back on the shelf near their feet, heads back over to the sink to wash his hands. "I get where you're coming from, okay? That's why I've let you get away with so much shit."

He dries his hands, tosses the paper towel in the trash. "But before you came back, all anyone would tell me about was how great you were. Fucking _nuts_ , but – they all really liked you, you know? And I'm good at what I do, Jason, but you were still really hard to live up to."

Jason clears his throat. He grabs a glove from the box to put over his hand. "So what do you want from me, man?" Jason asks.

Tim comes back to the counter to stand next to him. "Let's just start over, okay?" He looks so sincere, so fucking _honest_ , and it pisses Jason off. It was so much easier to hate this kid when he just seemed like some snotty little prick.

"Yeah," Jason says. "Okay."

They work in silence for a while, Tim shaping the dough for cinnamon rolls while Jason works on the icing, and it's not until Tim gets the rolls in the oven that he says, "I'm really not sleeping with Bruce, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Jason says. "Is it weird if that sort of makes it worse?"

Tim looks at him. He's got cinnamon on his chin and cherry filling on his cheek. "Jason," he says. "When I first started working here I was told that Dick, who is _co-manager_ , was not allowed near the food under any circumstances. You really wanna get into weird?"

Jason laughs before he can stop himself. "Oh, man, and Dick dropping things is just the tip of the iceberg, too. This one time he _begged_ Alfred to let him cook something, just one dish – fire department practically made us sign something to make sure that never happened again."

"Jesus," Tim says. "And he has a job here how, exactly?"

Jason shrugs. "He's a good manager. I mean, aside from –"

"Yeah, yeah," Tim says, holding up a hand. "I'll have you know _Bruce_ hired me. After _weeks_ of having to convince him I was good enough."

"Wow," Jason says. "How'd you finally do it?"

Tim shrugs. "I don't know. I think he just got sick of me showing up with pastries every day and figured if I was going to feed the rest of his staff I might as well be getting paid."

Jason laughs again, and Tim smiles at him. He's – kind of got a nice smile. "In retrospect," Tim says, while Jason reaches for the container of powdered sugar. "Maybe it _would've_ been easier to sleep with him."

Jason drops the container on the floor. Powdered sugar lands _everywhere_ \- on the counter, on the floor, on both of them. They both stare at the floor, then at each other. "I swear to god," Jason says. "I didn't do that on purpose."

"Whatever," Tim says. There's white stuff in his eyes, on his eyebrows. "Just help me clean this up. It looks like a fucking coke den in here."

" _Jesus_ ," Jason says. He bends down to pick up the container and what's left of the sugar, but he looks up at Tim. "You're full of surprises, kid."

"That's what I keep trying to tell you."

They manage to get through the rest of the day without incident, aside from Steph stopping by to snap pictures of both of them covered in sugar. "Ah, bakers hard at work," Steph says. "I think I'll blow this up and put it in the front lobby. You know, people should know what really goes on here."

"Oh, you mean like that time I walked in on you and Conner in the walk-in cooler?" Tim asks.

"Wow," Jason says. "Way to go, Steph. Against the meat cage or the produce?"

Steph's face turns bright pink, but she holds her own. "Glass houses, Timothy Drake," she grits out, glaring at Tim. "Glass. Houses."

Tim blushes, but Steph storms back out of the kitchen before he can retort, nearly knocking Kara over with the swinging door as she does.

Jason turns to Tim to ask, but then Kara shatters half a dozen espresso cups instead of placing them in the sink and he forgets his question. 

 

*

 

On Friday, Bruce pulls Jason into his office.

"How are things going?" he asks.

Jason shrugs. It's his first day of not trying to make Tim's life hell – aside for kidding around trying to figure out who _Tim's_ been fucking in the walk-in cooler, but Tim's pretty much taken it in stride. He doesn't treat Jason like he's his boss, even though technically he _is_ \- they split their tasks evenly, and if Jason says he can do something better than Tim can, Tim lets him do it.

He still thinks most of what Tim chooses to make is _boring_ , though. But then, Bruce kind of had to outlaw a lot of Jason's recipes after someone complained about the jalapeno in the chocolate cake. Weirdos.

"It's been all right," Jason says.

"Dick says you and Tim have been getting along better," Bruce says.

Of course he did. Fucking Grayson. He's just as bad as Bruce sometimes. "Well, he punched me in the face yesterday, so I think that really helped break the ice," Jason says.

Bruce's eyes widen, and Jason says, "Oh, don't act like you didn't know."

"I didn't," Bruce says. "Jason –"

"I'm a big boy, Bruce," Jason says. "Kid's got a surprisingly good left hook, but you know me. Tough as fuckin' nails."

"Mm-hm," Bruce says, not sounding convinced. Jason remembers all the fights he used to get in that Bruce would have to patch him up from, when he and Roy and some of the other servers would hit up the bars across the street after work and just get toasted. He'd call Bruce afterward, wasted, and plead with him for a ride, and it didn't matter that Bruce was his boss, that it was fucked up and inappropriate – he'd always show.

"Anyway," Jason says. "It's just temporary until I get back on my feet, right? I'm still looking for other places to work."

It's the truth, sort of – he knows he _should_ look for other jobs, but that doesn't mean he's actually doing it. After work, he's so tired from beating up dough all day and hauling ingredients around that he just crashes on Roy's couch instead.

"Take all the time you need," Bruce says. "In the meantime, I want to thank you."

"Thank me?" Jason asks. "What the hell are you talking about, Bruce?"

"It can't have been easy for you to come back, Jason. Not after – everything."

Jason feels his blood pressure start to rise. "Everything? You mean when I fucked up your stupid party?"

"Jason –"

"No," Jason says. He gets right in Bruce's face, leaning down toward Bruce where he sits in his desk chair. "I didn't come back for _you_ , all right? I came back because I love this place, despite the fact that it's _yours_. I'm still fuckin' pissed at you, Bruce, and I have every right to be."

Bruce waits for him to finish, to step back, then says, "Have dinner with me this evening."

Jason blinks. "What?"

"It wouldn't have to be here. I could get Barbara to come over here and cover for a while and we could go out someplace. Or I could cook for you," Bruce says. He smiles, and Jason digs his nails into his palms. "You used to like that."

He did. Fuck, but he _did_. Bruce could make anything taste good, even the stuff Jason never used to think he liked – Bruce always laughed and said it was just all the butter he used, but whatever it was, Jason gained ten pounds that first month living with Bruce.

"I've," Jason says. "I've got plans already."

It's a lie, and they both know it, but Bruce lets it be. "All right," he says. "Maybe another time. I'm still glad you're back, Jason. I hope you are, too."

"Yeah," Jason says. "Yeah, I'm –"

There's a knock on the door, and Donna pokes her head in. "Sorry to interrupt," she says. "But Pamela's at table seven and she's screaming about how all the flowers on the table were grown with pesticides. We're gonna need your help, boss."

Bruce sighs and follows Donna out of the office, and Jason uses the opportunity to leave. He passes by the bar on his way out, stops when he sees Dinah behind it.

"You're back," he says.

Dinah's leans across the bar to pull Jason into a hug. "They told me you were around," she says. "I said if I didn't see you by Friday I was going to hunt you down."

"Sorry to keep missing you," Jason says. He looks Dinah up and down. She looks amazing – long blond hair falling over her shoulders, shirt cut low to show off her breasts, her arms toned and tanned. "When did you get back?" he asks.

"About a month ago," Dinah says.

"Things with Ollie didn't work out, huh?" He asks. Last he knew, Dinah had moved to Star City to help out at Ollie Queen's place.

"Nope," Dinah says. "But he's furious that I'm back here, so there's always that." She grins. "What about you?" she asks. "You off duty, pumpkin? You look like you could use a drink."

Jason shakes his head. "Always the saleslady."

"Hey, Bruce says our bar income has doubled just since I've gotten back."

"Gee, I wonder why," Jason says. He leans over the bar to check out Dinah's outfit, and yep, there are the fishnet stockings that could make anyone with a pulse drool.

"Seriously, kid," Dinah says, shoving him back. "You been okay? We were all worried."

He wishes people would quit asking him that, but then, he did disappear for a while. "I'm – I mean, you know."

"Yeah," Dinah says. She reaches over and pats Jason's hand, and Jason sees the space where her ring used to be. "Yeah, I do."

 

*

 

"Isn't it your day off?" Roy asks, when he wakes up at noon and finds Jason in the kitchen, hands covered in chocolate and three baking sheets of truffles laid out on the counter.

"Uh-huh," Jason says. "There's chocolate banana bread in the oven too if you want it."

Roy stares at him, scratches at the tattoo on his chest. "Jesus, I missed you."

"Thanks," Jason says. "Does that mean you'll help me clean up?"

"Absolutely not," Roy says. He reaches for a truffle and pops it in his mouth.

"Those aren't done," Jason says, but Roy shrugs, turns back to the bedroom and says, "Kori, come help me finish all Jason's food."

The bedroom door opens again and Kori comes out, wearing one of Roy's ratty t-shirts and not much else. "Isn't it your day off?" Kori asks Jason.

"Jesus, it's like neither of you want me here," Jason says. "It can't be because you're waiting for me to leave so you can have loud, obnoxious sex, because there was plenty of that going on last night."

Kori shrugs. "You're welcome to join us next time." She grabs a couple of truffles off the baking sheet before Jason puts them in the refrigerator, then starts to help Jason clean up.

"It _would_ be a good way for you to relax," Roy agrees as he starts in on the dishes.

"Jason doesn't believe in relaxing," Kori says. "Well, except for the six months he disappeared. Are you ever planning on telling us what you did all that time?"

Jason rolls his eyes. "Fucked French bakers."

"Really?" Roy asks, looking up at him.

"No," Jason says. He loves Kori and Roy, really he does, but he's _got_ to get his own place soon. And get the rest of his stuff back from Bruce's place. And –

Maybe he'll make cupcakes, too.

Once they finish cleaning up, Roy hops up on the kitchen counter to munch on the cookies Jason made last night after work. "So," he says. "Did you fuck him yet?"

" _Roy_ ," Kori says.

"What?" Roy asks. " _You_ asked _me_. I figured I should go right to the source before assuming."

Jason's going to pull his fucking hair out living with these two.

"Yes, but read the _signs_ ," Kori says. "Do you really think Jason would be here feeding us if he and Bruce had gotten back together?"

"I dunno," Roy says, shrugging. "Sometimes he bakes when he's happy, too."

"Kori," Jason says. "If I punch Roy, will you still love me forever?"

Kori beams at him, steps over to him and pulls him into a hug. She smells like Roy's cologne. "If possible," she says, her head tucked into Jason's shoulder, "I'd love you even longer than that."

"Cold," Roy says. "So fucking cold."

"Then maybe you should shut your trap," Jason says. The oven beeps, and Kori lets him go so he can take the bread out.

"Look," Jason says. "I don't know what's going to happen with me and Bruce, all right? But I've got two days where I don't have to think about it, so that's what I'm going to fucking do, okay?"

Roy and Kori nod at him, both looking like kicked puppies. "Now," Jason says. "Who wants chocolate banana bread?"

They both raise their hands. "But," Kori amends. "There's no jalapeno in it this time, right?"

"Jesus," Jason says. " _One_ time I try to instill some culture in you people and I hear about it for the rest of my life."

" _I_ thought it was good," Roy says.

"Suck up," Kori says. She sticks her tongue out at him and Roy grins, drags her over to him and kisses her.

Yeah. Jason definitely needs to get away from happy people for a while.

 

*

 

On Sunday, Jason shows up at Barbara's place with a bottle of whiskey and a tray of cupcakes.

"You do remember I don't drink," Barbara says.

"Please," Jason says. "The cupcakes are for you. The booze is all mine."

Barbara grins at him. She's cut her hair since the last time Jason saw her, and she's wearing one of Dick's old t-shirts, which means she probably hasn't left the house in a couple days. "I missed you so much," she says, taking the cupcakes out of his hands.

"Everyone keeps saying that," Jason says. "But what happens when I get sick of feeding all you people?"

Barbara sets the cupcakes down on the counter, stands up on her tiptoes to kiss Jason's cheek. "Jason," she says. "That will never happen."

And it's true, is the thing. Jason spent the last five years of his step mom's life cooking for her, and even though he's a better baker than a cook, he still can't really stay out of the kitchen if there are people around. Doesn't matter if he doesn't eat half the stuff he makes, he just feels more comfortable if everyone _else_ is good to go.

"Come on," Barbara says. She picks the cupcakes back up and sets them on her coffee table. "I waited six months to watch the rest of _Dexter_ with you, and so help me, if you tell me you watched it in Paris or whatever I will cut your balls off."

"Jesus," Jason says. He follows Barbara over to the couch and sits down while she fusses with the TV. "It's good to see you too, Babs."

She turns back around and gives him a brilliant smile, the kind that used to terrify _any_ potential customer who started getting snitty with her about how long it was going to take to get a table. Jason loves Steph to bits, but he still misses Barbara at the restaurant.

"How are you and the new kid doing?" Barbara asks once she hits play, and Jason shushes her.

"It's just the opening credits, Jason, for god's sake –"

"Ssh," Jason says. "Eat a cupcake."

Barbara makes a face, but listens to him for once, and for the next three hours the only thing they really talk about are the cupcakes and what's happening on the show. Jason gets a good buzz going, and Barbara gets sugarhigh enough to start talking about how _her_ new business is going.

"But really," Barbara says. She licks frosting off her fingers, then shrugs and wipes the rest off on her t-shirt. "Are things okay over there? Do I need to come back and kick Bruce's ass?"

Jason snorts. "Not yet," he says. "I mean, things are –" he pauses, uncaps the bottle in his lap and takes another long drink.

"Jason, if you say things are fine after drinking straight out of a bottle, I'm gonna kick _your_ ass, too."

"Maybe I just don't want to waste a glass," Jason says.

Barbara punches his shoulder. "Dinah told me you weren't looking great," she says.

"Ugh, spies _everywhere_. Why don't you just hack into the camera feed there while you're at it, stalker?"

Barbara smirks. "Don't think I haven't considered it," she says. "I keep asking Steph to send me a picture of her new boyfriend and she just texts me _hands off_."

"Pervert," Jason says.

"Excuse me, which one of us did it in the walk-in cooler here?"

"There's literally nowhere in that restaurant _someone_ hasn't gotten laid."

"Ew," Barbara says. She reaches for her third cupcake and offers Jason a bite.

"Whatever," Jason says around a mouthful of chocolate. "You totally miss it."

"Sometimes," Barbara says. "But I don't think I could go back. I mean, Dick and I are… you know, whatever. But I couldn't go back and work with my ex." She gives Jason a look when she says it, and Jason wishes Barbara wasn't so fucking _good_ at seeing through him.

"Could be worse," Jason says. "At least he's not fucking the new boy."

"Ew," Barbara says again. "I changed my mind. Let's talk about literally anything else."

 

*

 

Since Mondays are usually slow, Jason spends the morning helping Alfred with prep work. They work mostly in silence, and once they finish up Alfred shows him how to make one of the new soups. Usually Jason trusts Alfred's cooking, but when Alfred gives him a dish to try he makes a face at it.

"Come on, man," Jason says. "It's _green_."

"This from the guy who made avocado donuts," Tim pipes up from a few feet away.

"Fuck you, that was one time," Jason says. "And it was Pam's birthday."

Tim shakes his head. "You indulge one crazy, and look what happens. Anyway, it's actually pretty good. You kind of just have to close your eyes when you eat it."

"I'm so not touching that line," Jason says. Tim's face turns a little pink, but he says, "Just try it, asshole. You're gonna break Alfred's heart."

"My heart has no part of this conversation," Alfred says, walking away. "I wipe my hands of it."

"Great," Jason says once Alfred leaves. "Now I can throw it out without hurting his feelings."

"Get back to work," Tim says. "I'll take care of it."

"Thanks," Jason says, and Tim takes the dish from him, but instead of heading to the sink with it Tim spoons up some of the soup, gets up on his tiptoes, and shoves the spoon in Jason's mouth. Jason struggles, but Tim holds fast, and the little fucker's surprisingly strong.

" _Jesus_ ," Jason says once he swallows the soup. "Are you fucking crazy?"

"Duh," Tim says, smirking. "I work here. It's good, right?"

Jason makes a face at him. "You're a fucking nutcase, Drake."

"That wasn't _no_ ," Tim says.

"Who were you fucking in the walk-in?" Jason counters, and Tim scowls. "Truce?" he asks.

"For now," Jason agrees. "I need a smoke."

"You know, you really shouldn't –" Tim starts.

"First you try to poison me, then you try to save my life. No wonder Bruce hired you. You're as fucking crazy as he is."

Tim flips him off, but it's slightly countered by the fact that his fingertips are bright blue from food coloring.

 

*

 

When Jason gets out of work, he has one text from Roy: _wanna get drunk tonight?_

 _how is that any different from what we do most nights?_ Jason asks. He gets on the subway, so he doesn't get Roy's response until they're back above ground.

_there's Jager._

Jason calls him. "No, the other bread – thanks, Kori," Roy says. "Hey, Jaybird. How was work?"

"Fine," Jason says. He hates to be _that_ asshole on the phone when he's on the subway, but – "Everyone's alive, right?"

"Yes?" Roy asks. "Well, you know, not everyone. Lots of people are dead. Abe Lincoln's dead. That guy from _Three's Company_ is dead. And –"

" _Roy._ "

"Sorry," Roy says. "You've gotta stop baking so much, Jaybird. Kori and I have been sugarhigh for days."

"You guys could try real food," Jason suggests.

"Pizza tonight?" Roy asks.

Jason sighs. "I'll pick something up. Just, everything's okay, right? The last time you brought the Jager out it was because Dinah moved to Star City."

"A tragic day for all people with the gift of sight everywhere," Roy agrees.

"That doesn't answer my question," Jason says.

"Sorry, Jaybird, gotta go," Roy says. "Kori found where I stashed the rest of the thumbprint cookies. Hurry back!"

Jason sighs, chain smokes a couple of cigarettes on his way to the grocery store, and picks up ingredients for lasagna. He wants to make spaghetti, but he can never get his sauce to taste as good as the one Bruce makes, and he doesn't want to call Bruce for the recipe.

Not that he'd give it to Jason, anyway. Stingy bastard.

By the time Jason gets home, the bottle of Jager has already been opened and Kori and Roy have their tongues in each other's mouths. "Out of my kitchen," Jason says.

"Technically, it's –" Roy starts, but Jason raises an eyebrow. "I mean it _is_."

"Roy, the last time you cooked it was when Dick still lived here."

"Ah, right," Roy says. "Man, I wonder how Bob's doing. He showed up to every one of our fires."

"Good thing Barbara finally unplugged the stove," Jason says.

"Ah, Babs," Roy says. Kori smacks his arm.

" _Out_ ," Jason says again. He starts unpacking groceries.

"Fine, whatever," Roy says. He starts to tug Kori out of the kitchen with him, but she stops him. "We should tell him," she says.

"Tell me what?" Jason asks.

Roy clears his throat, and Kori looks at the ground. "Tell me _what_?" Jason asks again.

"It's just," Kori says.

"Your ex was here," Roy finishes.

"My – what the hell was Bruce doing here?" Jason asks.

Kori reaches for his hand, but Jason backs off. "He dropped off the rest of your things," she says. She tilts her head toward the living room, where Jason can see a couple of boxes marked with his name.

Jason tries to swallow, but he can't. His hands shake as he takes the rest of the groceries out of the bag. Roy and Kori watch him like they're waiting for him to snap, to do anything.

He doesn't. He makes them dinner, downs a quarter of the bottle of Jager while he cooks, and eventually Roy and Kori find something else to do while he chops up ingredients. 

It's not until the lasagna's in the oven, five minutes to go, that Jason speaks up. "When the oven beeps, take out the lasagna," he says. "Don't forget to turn the oven off."

"Duh," Roy says, and Kori elbows him in the side.

Jason wipes his hands on his jeans, grabs his keys back off the hook by the door. "Just don't burn the house down, okay?"

"Okay," Kori says. "Jason –"

He doesn't wait, just shuts the door behind him.

 

*

 

Jason spends two minutes trying to get into Bruce's apartment with his old key before Bruce opens the door. Bruce is still dressed in his work clothes, but his tie's undone and his hair's a mess which means he must have been chef on duty tonight.

"Why the fuck doesn't my key work?" Jason asks, pushing past Bruce into the apartment.

"Hello, Jason," Bruce says. "Please come in."

Jason whips back around, points his finger at Bruce. "Fuck you, Bruce."

"Jason," Bruce says, "Have you been drinking?"

"Yeah, I have," Jason says. "And that's the only reason I'm not fucking _murdering_ you right now. I mean what the fuck, Bruce."

Bruce waits him out. Three minutes, four, of Jason pacing the living room, trying to figure out what the fuck Bruce is making for dinner that smells _awful_ , wondering how long ago Bruce put in new carpet.

Then: "You can't just – I'm not even – my name's still on the _mailbox_ , Bruce."

"I know," Bruce says. "Jason, I wasn't trying to –" he steps a little closer to Jason, and Jason can smell basil and fresh garlic, and underneath all of that the soap Bruce uses. "I only thought you might want some of your things."

"Why?" Jason asks. "You got someone new moving in here, too?"

"Jason…" Bruce frowns. "I don't want this to be so difficult for us."

"Then maybe you shouldn't sneak over to where I'm staying when I'm not _home_."

Bruce lets out a breath, and his mouth twitches into a smile, but it's not – not the right one, not the one Jason used to do anything to try to get. Everyone used to say how cranky Bruce was, how he had no sense of humor, but Jason could always get him to smile, get him to _laugh_.

"I didn't think I could do it if you were there," Bruce says. "I think – I think I would have just asked you to come back."

Jason swallows, unclenches his fists. "And now?" he asks. Bruce starts to speak, but Jason interrupts, "You know what, don't answer that. What the _fuck_ are you cooking that smells so terrible?"

Bruce laughs, and Jason doesn't try to lean into it. "It's a frozen dinner, actually."

"Jesus Christ," Jason says. "You're hopeless." He pushes past Bruce and heads for the kitchen, and before Bruce can stop him he takes the frozen dinner out of the microwave – Bruce didn't even used to _own_ a microwave – and dumps it in the trash.

"Jason," Bruce starts, but Jason shakes his head, grabs a pot from one of the cabinets and fills it with water. "Just shut up and chop some vegetables," he says. "Jesus, you're unbelievable."

"You used to mean that as a compliment," Bruce says. Jason blushes, but he busies himself with fixing Bruce's dinner – brown rice and vegetables, some leftover grilled chicken – and doesn't think about anything for the next thirty minutes or so except ingredients.

"This is good," Bruce tells him later, when they're leaning over the counter to eat. Jason's not really hungry, rarely eats his own cooking anyway and right now there's a knot in his stomach the size of a Jager bottle, but he picks at his food to give himself a reason not to keep looking at Bruce.

"Thank you, Jason," Bruce says, and Jason shrugs, stabs at a piece of broccoli. "You could've done better," he says. "You know, if you weren't so fucking lazy."

Bruce coughs, laughs, and Jason risks looking up at him to catch the gleam in his eye, that twinkling blue that could get him to do anything, except –

"You painted," Jason says, looking at the walls of the kitchen, the ones in the living room beyond.

"Yes," Bruce says. "I kept meaning to hire someone, but then," Bruce clears his throat, and Jason thinks about Dick saying _he disappeared for like three days, man, and then once we finally got him to come back it was like he **lived** here_ , "Well, I had some time."

"Yeah," Jason says. "Yeah, I guess you did."

They eat the rest of their food in silence, and when Jason tries to help Bruce with the dishes Bruce tells him not to worry about them. Jason needs to go, but instead he sits up on the counter while Bruce does the dishes, and Bruce tells him about how the night went at the restaurant.

He's still a little drunk, enough that with his head back against the cabinet and the steady sound of the water running he feels drowsy. His eyes droop, and then Bruce is standing in front of him, putting his still-damp hands on Jason's shoulders.

"Jay," he says. "Jason."

When he opens his eyes Bruce is right there, looking at him. His shirt is flecked with water and one of the buttons of it is undone. Jason reaches forward to fix it, then changes his mind and starts unbuttoning instead. Bruce lets him, but when Jason starts to slide forward on the counter, Bruce puts his hand on his leg to stop him.

And Jason almost pushes it. Almost pulls the kind of shit like he's seventeen, eighteen again and asks _don't you want to?_ but he knows what the answer is, and anyway –

Anyway.

"Yeah, okay," Jason says, and Bruce gives him a hand off the counter. He catches a whiff of Bruce's hair, shampoo and something else that always just makes Jason think _restaurant_.

Bruce walks him to the door, thanks him again for dinner. "I'm still mad at you for changing the locks," Jason reminds him. 

"Jason," Bruce says. He takes Jason's keys out of his hand for a second, shows Jason the key he was using. "None of these are our keys."

He ignores the _our_ , ignores the look on Bruce's face like Bruce wants to laugh, wants to kiss the top of Jason's forehead and just hold him there.

"I mentioned I'm a little drunk, right?" Jason asks.

"Yes," Bruce says. "Let me take you back."

He doesn't say _home_.

 

*

 

"Don't take this the wrong way," Tim says the next morning. They're making raspberry charlotte, and Jason volunteered to take on the easier part of the job by arranging lady fingers around the pan. "But did you just bathe in alcohol last night?"

"Sorry," Jason says, and he _is_. If his track record for not calling in sick – aside from disappearing for half a year – wasn't _impeccable_ , he definitely would have called in dead today. After Bruce dropped him off, he helped Kori and Roy finish off the Jager, and then dug up a bottle of gin from god knows where. He woke up at the foot of their bed this morning, and only got to work on time because the alcohol woke him up while trying to escape from his body.

"My roommates are uh – a little much," Jason finishes. "I mean, I love them, but it's not somewhere I want to stay for much longer."

"Hm," Tim says. "Hold this?" he asks, motioning to the sieve. Jason does, and Tim pours custard through it into a bowl. "Well," Tim says. "If you ever need a place to crash, I'm told my couch is only mildly uncomfortable."

Jason grins. "Only mildly?"

"I mean, I wouldn't know, because my bed is fantastic."

"Right. That's nice of you and all, but you don't know me, and –"

"Jason," Tim says. He starts sprinkling gelatin, but glances over at Jason as he does. "I spent six months listening to stories about you. I feel like I know you pretty well." He backs away from the stove while the gelatin sits, brushes his hands on his apron. "I thought you'd be shorter, though."

Jason snorts. "Really?"

"I mean, everyone made you sound like this tiny terror. A lovable one, but still."

"I used to be," Jason says. "Man, I can't tell you how many dishes Dick broke always coming up behind me and picking me up."

"He tried that with me," Tim says, grinning.

"I believe it," Jason says. "You're fucking _tiny_."

"Yeah, maybe," Tim says. "He ended up with a bruised jaw from it."

Jason laughs. "Good for you, replacement."

"I have a name," Tim says. His nose wrinkles and it's kind of cute.

"Yeah," Jason says. He gets in Tim's space, puts his hands on Tim's waist.

"Jason," Tim warns, but it's early in the morning yet and they're the only ones here, and –

"It's _replacement_ ," Jason teases, and then he's got his hands under Tim's arms and he's lifting Tim up, throwing Tim over his shoulder.

"You _fucker_ ," Tim says. He kicks out, but Jason grabs his legs, laughs as Tim starts beating his little fists against his back. "Jason, I'll get you back for this, I swear to –"

Tim stops, and Jason turns around with Tim still in his arms to see Conner standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Conner," Jason says, like he's not holding 130 pounds of Tim's bird bones.

"Uh," Conner says. "I can come back. I'm just here for my last paystub."

"Dick's not in for another twenty minutes at least. You can hang out if you want, though."

"Right," Conner says. "Um, what are you –"

"Fuck, Jason, the gelatin," Tim says, and Jason puts him down maybe a little too quickly. The next five minutes the two of them scramble to keep from burning anything. Tim stirs the custard into the mixture, then hands it off to Jason for the cream.

"So," Conner says. "Tim –"

"I'll throw this in the cooler," Tim interrupts, and then he's gone for what seems like fucking ages, long enough for Dick to come in, give Conner his check and say goodbye, long enough for Jason to start on the next thing.

He's grinding up hazelnuts when Tim finally comes back.

"Hey," Jason says. "I think you forgot your boyfriend when you went back there."

It's hard to tell with how pink Tim's face is from the cold, but Jason's pretty sure he blushes. "Not my boyfriend," Tim says. "Just –"

"Didn't want to deal with that?" Jason asks. "Hey, I get it. I left the _country_ to dodge my problems."

"I don't think my problems have reached that level yet," Tim says, heading over to the sink to wash up.

"You work here long enough, give 'em time," Jason says.

"Gee, so much to look forward to," Tim says.

"Whatever," Jason says. "You love it here, stalker boy."

They work quietly for a while, Jason singing along to the radio while Tim laughs at the stupid voices he does, until somewhere between tartlets and cupcakes Jason says, "I can't _believe_ you fucked Conner, too. No wonder Steph was pissed."

Tim blushes again, mutters something under his breath.

"What?" Jason asked.

"I said," Tim says, "I was there first."

Jason thinks about giving Tim more shit for it, but instead he just gathers up the things that need to go back in the fridge, grins at Tim and says, "That's usually my line."

 

*

 

When Roy gets home, he finds Jason curled up on the couch watching TV. He sits down next to Jason, asks, "Long day?"

"I'm never drinking again," Jason says.

"Sure you're not," Roy says. "Kori and I still have some edibles left if you want."

Jason gives him a look, but says, "Maybe later."

He switches channels, but he's seen every episode of _SVU_ ever made and he's not in the mood for anything else, so he turns the TV off.

"How's it going with the new kid?" Roy asks.

Jason shrugs. "He's all right, I guess. I wouldn't nominate him for employee of the month, but I haven't tried to set him on fire in a couple days, so that's something."

Roy snorts. "Do you guys even have an employee of the month?"

"Damian," Jason says.

"Isn't he in Vienna or something?"

"Venice," Jason says. Damian's been gone longer than he was, studying with a number of Bruce's and Talia's old mentors. Jason's pretty sure Talia up and kidnapped Damian, because Bruce has always been much more _learn by experience_ \- but he tries not to get involved.

"Right, whatever," Roy says.

"So about once a month Damian sends in his ballot nominating himself. His picture's been up on the wall since before I even left."

"Cute."

"Yeah." Jason yawns, rubs his face. He hasn't showered yet, and he still smells like the lemon filling he spilled all over himself when Bruce showed up at the end of Jason's shift looking like twelve kinds of perfect. Tim had the decency to help him clean up – between laughing at him – but Jason's pretty sure he still has some of the stuff in his hair.

"God," Jason says. "I've gotta get out of that place."

"Oh, shut up," Roy says. "C'mere," he adds, and tugs Jason down until his head is in his lap. "Hm," Jason says. "This looks familiar."

"Shut up," Roy says again. He starts running his fingers through Jason's hair, and Jason hums his approval. "You know you love that place," Roy says.

"What, between your thighs?" Jason asks. "Yeah, I guess it's all right."

Roy flicks his forehead. "Jackass," he says. "I mean the restaurant. Quit pretending like you're going anywhere, because you know you won't."

"I should, though," Jason says. "I just…"

"Bruce," Roy supplies.

"Basically," Jason agrees. He shuts his eyes. It's not just Bruce, of course. Jason loves most of the people there, loves every inch of that building, from the bathroom stalls that are too small and dainty to fit any human alive to the stoves that are large enough to cook three twenty pound turkeys.

It's just.

"You know," Roy says. "You could always quit and come on the road with me and Kori."

"What, join the band? I'm not even qualified to play the fucking tambourine, Roy."

Roy laughs, leans his head down and kisses Jason's forehead. "It'd be great, though. The three of us, we'd take over the world. You know, if we ever get a fucking record deal."

"Hey," Jason says. He opens his eyes, looks up at Roy. "You will, man, I know it. With Kori's talent and your – uh, charm –"

"Fucker," Roy says, laughing. "Just for that, you're back out of the band."

Jason grins. "It's just as well," he says. He turns a little, drags his mouth over the front of Roy's jeans. "I'd rather be a groupie, anyway."

"Jay…" Roy starts. His hand stills in Jason's hair, and Jason glances back up at him. "You wanna?" Jason asks.

"Hell yeah," Roy breathes out. "Kori'll be home soon."

Jason sits up, climbs into Roy's lap. "So she can catch up," he says, and kisses Roy. They break apart so Roy can get his shirt off, and then Jason gets his mouth on Roy's neck, drags his teeth across Roy's shoulder, licks his way around the tattoo on Roy's chest.

"Fuck, Jason, your _mouth_ ," Roy says, as Jason slides down to the carpet, licking down Roy's stomach and then unbuckling Roy's belt, pulling Roy's jeans down.

"Fuckin' tramp," Jason says, when Roy's dick springs out to meet his mouth. He's not even sure Roy _owns_ underwear.

"Takes one to – ah, _Jesus_ ," Roy says, because Jason gets his mouth on him, leans forward to suck at the head of Roy's cock. "God, Jay, I fuckin' _missed_ you."

Jason pushes Roy's thighs apart, wraps his hand around the base of Roy's dick. "Maybe say that when my mouth's not on your dick, huh?"

"Shut up, you know I love you," Roy says, and then he doesn't talk for a while, at least nothing you'd call intelligible, because Jason starts going down on him, slicking up Roy's dick with his mouth while he gets his hand around his own, getting off on the sounds Roy's making, on Roy's hands in his hair pulling hard.

He only just hears the front door opening, Kori's soft footsteps across the carpet. "Hm," she says. Jay rolls his eyes up to look at her, the short sundress she's wearing, her hair loose today. "Is there a line I can get in for this service somewhere?"

Roy laughs, reaches his hand out for Kori. "Come here, baby," he says. "We'll make room."

Jason pulls off Roy so they can rearrange themselves. Roy lies back on the couch, and Jason gets back between his legs while Kori strips off her dress and panties and then positions herself over Roy's face.

"Jesus _fuck_ ," Jason says, and Kori turns her head back to look at him as Roy grips her thighs, squeezes her ass. "Don't come," she tells Jason. "I want to return the favor."

And Jason nearly comes from _that_ , but he grips his dick tight and gets back to work, taking Roy in his mouth while he watches Roy get his fingers in Kori, listens to the slick sounds of Roy's tongue inside of her. This isn't the first time they've done this, but it's the first time Jason hasn't been drunk, hasn't been desperate, hasn't been –

Well, the _hung up on someone else_ part is still true, but he swallows that down like he swallows Roy's cock, working him fast and dirty like he knows Roy needs it.

When he knows Roy's about to come, he pulls off with a slurp and finishes Roy with his hand so he can watch Roy and Kori. Roy moans into Kori when he comes, and Kori responds with a breathless noise of her own. Jason climbs off Roy, moves around the couch so he's in front of Kori.

She opens her eyes to look at him, smiles like fucking sunshine. "Hi," Jason says.

"Hi," she says back, and when Jason leans down and kisses her she cups his face with her hands, kisses him soft and sweet as she grinds her pussy against Roy's mouth.

Jason moves his hands from her shoulders to her breasts, cups them in his hand and squeezes as he keeps kissing her, until the combination of Roy's mouth and Jason's is too much for Kori to take and she throws her head back, gasping out her orgasm.

She slides down Roy slowly, giggling when Roy keeps licking her clean, and Jason leans down to kiss the taste of her out of Roy's mouth. Kori puts her hand in Jason's hair and tugs him back up, kisses him again. "I missed you," she says.

"Kind of the word of the day around here," Jason says, quirking an eyebrow. "I _know_ you two are getting laid plenty, so –"

Kori stops him by putting both her hands around his dick and leaning forward to get her mouth on him. He can't talk, can't even think for the next five minutes as Kori sucks him off, humming a tune around Jason's cock that he's sure he knows but can't place.

He tries not to fuck into her too hard, tries to go easy, but by the end of it he's so worked up that he can't help it, can't help just feeding her his cock while her warm, soft hands cradle his balls.

After, Kori sits back against Roy, curls herself into him on the couch. Roy smiles up at Jason and holds out his hand, but there's no room for Jason, not really, so he just wipes at his mouth and goes to take a shower. 

 

*

 

On Thursday, Tim's sick with a cold. When he shows up to work he's paler than usual, eyes and nose all red, but he swears up and down that he's good to go. Jason humors him for a while, takes over and lets Tim do the easier stuff, but the third time he catches Tim leaning against the counter to keep himself upright, he says, "All right, go home."

"What?" Tim straightens up, picks his knife back up.

"You look like a zombie outbreak. Just go home, man, I've got this."

"I'm _fine_ ," Tim says. "I just need stronger medicine." He sniffs, takes his cutting board over to the sink and sways a little on his way back.

"Uh-huh," Jason says. "I'm taking you home."

"Jason –" Tim starts, but Jason gives him a look. "Drake, I'm bigger and stronger than you, and unless you want me to embarrass you by carrying you out to your car, you're going to let me take you home. Now go wait in the office, I'll make some calls."

"Who –"

"Don't worry about it," Jason says. Tim gives him another look, but does as he's told, and Jason pulls out his phone and calls Dinah. She uses a couple of swear words Jason didn't even know existed, but eventually she agrees to come in and cover the morning shift for them as long as Jason takes over the bar tonight.

"Should I wear some of your fishnets?" Jason teases.

"I can think of a few people who might enjoy that," Dinah fires back, and Jason blushes. He hangs up, grabs a few things from the cooler and throws them in a bag, then does what he can while he waits for Dinah.

"What's all that?" Tim asks twenty minutes later when Jason comes to get him. Dinah's already got her music on, loud 90's girl punk that's sure to terrify Dick when he comes in later.

"Food," Jason says. He tugs Tim up from the chair. "Correct me if I'm dead wrong, but you seem like the type of person who has ketchup and a jar of olives in their fridge."

"Tortilla shells and root beer," Tim corrects, smirking. They start out toward Tim's car, and Tim says, "You really don't have to come with me, you know."

"Are you kidding?" Jason asks. "If I go in there and tell Dinah to go back home after waking her up at 7AM, someone's going to find my corpse in the freezer later on."

"At least you'd still be pretty," Tim says.

"Nah," Jason says. He snakes Tim's keys from him, pretends he's oblivious to the look Tim gives him. "Dinah's the type to go right for your face."

"I'll remember that," Tim says.

 

*

 

Tim's apartment is only about three miles down the road, but there are four flights of stairs and no elevator. "How the fuck did you even get down these this morning?" Jason asks.

"Carefully," Tim says. His apartment is the first one off the stairway, and when he unlocks it he says, "It's, um, kind of a mess. Sorry."

"Please," Jason says. "I live with musicians, I've seen worse."

He kind of hasn't, though. It's not that Tim's place is dirty – it's just that Jason's never seen so much clutter in his life. Books, videogames, pieces of electronics, a stack of takeout menus so high Alfred would have a cardiac arrest. Jason has to create room on the kitchen counter just so he can set down his bag.

"Really," Tim says. "I'm good now. Go back to work, or take the day off, whatever." He takes off his jacket, kicks his shoes off, collapses on the couch and proceeds to have a two-minute coughing fit.

"Nice try," Jason says. "Just find something good to watch and I'll make you something to eat."

He manages to convince Tim to settle down for about twenty minutes, but once Jason starts cooking, Tim wanders back into the kitchen, comes to stand next to him at the stove.

"What?" Jason asks.

"Nothing," Tim says. "I just wasn't sure that stove actually worked."

Jason shakes his head, stirs the soup and adds more vegetables. "You really never cook, huh?"

"Never really learned," Tim admits.

"So how the hell did you get into baking?"

"Kind of fell into it, honestly." Tim shrugs. "I mean I'm good at it – but put a steak in front of me and I'll fuck it up in a heartbeat."

Tim takes a spoon out of the silverware drawer, tries to ladle up some of the soup, but Jason smacks him away with a wooden spoon.

" _Ow_ ," Tim says.

"Sorry, habit." Jason grins. "You have to wait until it's done, man."

"What _is_ it?"

"Chicken noodle with some extra good stuff," Jason says. "I used to make it for my mom a lot, before she –" Jason clears his throat. It'll be ten years soon. Ten years, and the smell of chicken broth still takes him back to that tiny apartment where she died, the place he squatted for weeks while he was still busing tables for Bruce.

Then he let Dick drive him home, told Dick the truth –

"Anyway," Jason says. "Didn't I tell you to go lie down? You're the worst patient ever."

Tim gives him a weak smile, but he doesn't move. "What is it?" Jason asks.

"Nothing," Tim says. "It's just, I guess I never realized…"

"What?" Jason asks. Tim ducks his head, fusses with one of the books still left on the counter. "Nothing," Tim says. He looks back at Jason, gives him a real smile. "Thanks, Jason."

"Sure," Jason says. He turns back to the stove, and Tim adds, "I just hope I don't get you sick, too."

"Please," Jason says. "I've got the constitution of an ox."

"Is that good?" Tim asks.

"It means I never get sick," Jason says. It's not true, not exactly, but he _was_ sick so often as a kid that he's pretty sure he got every variation of a cold or a flu there ever was. "Now go sit back down before I tie you to the couch," Jason says.

Tim goes, but not before he smirks at Jason and says, "Be easier if you tied me to the bed. I've got a really nice headboard."

That's _not_ why Jason accidentally touches the edge of the pot. He's just clumsy sometimes.

 

*

 

Jason makes Tim enough soup to last him a couple of days, and after Tim has a little, he thanks Jason about ten times before finally crashing on the couch, snoring along to an old episode of _Sponge Bob._

Most of the evening at the bar goes smoothly. Jason still remembers a lot of the regulars from the days when he waited tables, and after a while most of them stop giving him shit and just ask him how he's been. The only real downside of the night is the jackass who keeps having him remake gin fizzes until Jason gets it right – and he kind of _figured_ Roy would come by just to fuck with him.

"You don't even like gin," Jason says.

"Nope," Roy agrees. "That's the devil's drink. But look at how pretty and frothy you got this one, Jaybird."

"Jesus, get the fuck outta my sight," Jason says.

"Now, is that any way to talk to paying customers?" a voice says to the left of him, and Jason jumps about a foot. He's going to put bells on Bruce's shoes one of these days, for fucking sure.

"Don't worry," Roy says, gesturing to the five - _five_ \- drinks he made Jason make him. "I have zero intention of paying for any of these."

Bruce smiles at him, but it's that dangerous, _you have ten seconds to leave_ smile that Bruce reserves for truly uncouth customers. "Why don't you find yourself a table, Roy," Bruce says. "I'll have Stephanie get you something to eat."

"Uh," Roy says. He gets off the barstool, and Jason tries not to laugh when he almost knocks the thing over. "You know, thanks, but I think I'm good. Later, Jaybird."

"Careful," Jason says, and he's pretty sure if Bruce weren't standing right there, Roy would've flipped him off.

Once Roy's gone, Jason turns to look at Bruce. His hair's slicked back, suit and tie in perfect condition, and when Jason looks down he can see the cufflinks he bought Bruce years ago, not long after he moved in with him.

"How are things going?" Bruce asks.

"Not bad," Jason says. He picks Roy's glasses off the counter, sets them in the bus tub below. "Besides that moron, anyway. You'd think he saw enough of me at home."

Bruce smiles at him, and it warms him right up. "You would think," he agrees, but Jason hears the rest of it –

"Anyway," Jason says.

"Anyway," Bruce says, clears his throat. "I just came by to thank you for looking after Tim today. I know it can't have been easy –"

"He is sort of the worst patient," Jason says. Donna comes by to grab a couple beers and he hands them over to her.

"Worse than me?" Bruce asks, and Jason snorts. " _No one_ is worse than you, Bruce. That one time I almost barricaded you in your room –"

His face warms up, and he cuts himself off.

"Anyway, it's fine," Jason says. "I just didn't want him sneezing all over the pastries."

"Of course," Bruce says. "I'm just happy you're getting along. Alfred says you've even stopped dropping slabs of butter on the floor to try to trip him."

"Oh, one fucking time," Jason says. "Besides, that was an accident." Bruce looks at him, and Jason amends, "Well, okay, dropping it was an accident. Not telling him about it…"

"As I said," Bruce says. "I'm happy you're past that. And Jason –"

Whatever he means to tell Jason, though, he doesn't get to say, because from table twelve comes the sound of someone shouting about a health code violation.

"Damn it," Bruce says. "I've told Selina about those cats."

"Still hiding 'em in her purse, huh?" Jason asks.

"Just keep an eye on things," Bruce says. "The last time she brought them in we were missing half the money in our safe the next day."

"You _could_ just call the cops," Jason says. Bruce glares at him. "Fine, whatever," Jason says. "Go deal with the crazy cat lady and her little friends. I'll make sure we don't get robbed."

*

Tim calls Jason Friday morning to let him know he won't be in. "I think I might be sick," Tim admits.

"Gosh, you think?" Jason asks. Tim apologizes to him about four times, but Jason assures him it's fine – "You know I did this job without you for like two years, right?"

"Yeah," Tim says, "but who's going to tell you how bad your taste in music is?"

"Fuck you," Jason says. "You _know_ you love Bon Jovi."

"I assure you this isn't true," Tim says. He hangs up sometime during Jason's off-key rendition of _Living on a Prayer_ , but when Jason gets to work Tim texts him _thanks for understanding._

 _whatever, man_ , Jason answers. _just get better before Bruce accuses me of poisoning you or something._

 _it COULD be the soup_ , Tim replies.

Jason snorts, but tucks his phone away and gets to work. By the time Alfred gets in, Jason's deep in an 80's hair band vortex and Alfred sighs between slicing vegetables and says, "I suppose Timothy won't be joining us this morning, will he?"

"Still sick," Jason says. _just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song_

"Pity," Alfred says. 

"Aww, Alfred," Jason says, "are you telling me you didn't miss me?"

"Oh, I did," Alfred says. "It's only I didn't miss your abhorrent taste in what you call music."

"Everyone's a critic," Jason mutters. He starts to turn the music down, but then Dick bangs the swinging door open singing _every rose has its thorn_. He comes up behind Jason and lifts him off the ground. "Jeez, little brother," Dick says. "Maybe less sampling the merchandise, huh? You got _heavy_."

"Fuck off," Jason says, and Dick gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before he sets him back down. Dick walks off still humming along to the music and Jason turns to Alfred and says, "See? At least someone knows music when they hear it."

Alfred glares at him. 

 

*

 

Jason and Kori are in the middle of playing Mario Kart when someone knocks at the door.

"Roy," Jason whines. Kori's already kicked his ass three times today; if he gets up to get the door, she'll beat him again.

Someone knocks again. "Harper!" Jason says, and Roy finally comes out of the bedroom, shirtless and wearing a pair of sweats and one sock. "Jesus, what am I, the house valet?"

"I'm the house chef, so it's about time you did something around here," Jason mutters. Fuck, he's losing again.

Roy gets the door, and Jason hears him say, "Oh, hey man, I'm Roy. Come on in, Jason's just –"

"Losing," Kori says, because Jason looks up and sees Tim walking towards them with a plate of something, and it's enough of a distraction that not just Kori but half the goddamn characters pass him up.

He tosses the controller down in disgust, then looks up at Tim. "Hey, man," he says. "How are you feeling?"

Tim looks good – jeans and a band t-shirt, his hair kind of casually messy. There's color in his cheeks, and he looks rested.

"A lot better," Tim says. "I swear, that soup worked miracles."

"Aww, man," Roy complains. "You made soup and didn't bring us any?"

"I made you steak last night, asshole," Jason says, and Tim laughs. Jason likes the sound of it.

"So, um," Tim says. "Anyway, I made you these." He hands Jason the plate, and Jason takes off the plastic wrap. "They're just chocolate chip," Tim says. "But it's from a recipe my nanny used and swore by."

Jason picks up a cookie, raises an eyebrow at Tim. "You had a nanny?"

"Uh," Tim says. "Yeah." He looks a little embarrassed, and Jason can tell that Roy's about to open his mouth and say something _stupid_.

"Thanks," Jason says. "You didn't have to."

"Can I try one?" Roy asks, reaching for the plate.

"I guess –" Tim starts, and Roy grabs three right away, shoves one in his mouth. He at least waits until he swallows before he says, "Man, these are amazing. Jaybird, try one."

Tim looks from Roy, who's getting cookie crumbs everywhere, back to Jason. "Jaybird?" he asks.

"Call me it and I'll make your life miserable," Jason says. He takes a bite of a cookie and makes a sound that is not at all dignified. "Fuck, you weren’t kidding. These are great."

Kori leans across the couch to grab a cookie as well. "Ugh, get your own, these are for _me_ ," Jason says.

"Oh, hush," Kori says. "I have to try whatever's making you make sex noises."

Tim chokes – on nothing – and Roy laughs. "She's right, you know," Roy says.

"I, uh," Tim says. "I wouldn't know. Anyway," he starts. "I'll get out of your hair. See you –"

"Tim," Jason interrupts. He picks the controller back off the coffee table, offers it to Tim. "You wanna hang out for a while?"

Tim reaches for the controller and Jason makes room for him on the couch. "I have to warn you," he tells them. "I'm kind of competitive."

"Good," Roy says. He grabs two more controllers from the coffee table, one for him and one for Jason, and then settles between Jason and Kori. "Because we need someone to take Kori down."

"Just because you all _suck_ …" Kori starts.

"I do," Roy says, with a wink in Tim's direction. "But we really weren't talking about that."

Jason sighs. "Just start the game, Harper."

Roy does, and over the next couple of hours they find out that when Tim said _competitive_ he meant _fucking vicious._

"You're _cheating_ ," Kori says, when Tim beats them all for about the thirty-eighth time.

"It's a race," Tim says, but he's smirking. "How can I be cheating?"

"I don't know," Kori says. "But you _are_. Jason, tell him he has to make us more cookies. I'm depressed."

"Now you know how the rest of us feel," Roy says. "Should've been nicer in your victories before, princess." Kori punches his shoulder.

"I think I'm starting to figure out why you're so prone to drinking," Tim tells Jason, when Kori and Roy get up to grab more snacks.

Jason laughs and stretches out on the couch. "They're a little much, I know. It's cool if you want to get out of here."

Tim seems to think about it for a minute, but then Roy and Kori slip off toward their bedroom. "Back in a bit, kids," Roy says. He winks, and Kori smacks the back of his head.

"Nah," Tim says. "I'll stay."

 

*

 

Sunday morning, Jason gets a text from Steph. _Announcement_ , she writes. _today is both god's day and my birthday. anyone who remembers which one is actually more important is expected at Noonans at 9PM sharp to celebrate my existence._

 _you know some of us have to work tomorrow_ , Jason answers.

_yes, well, some of us had to work this weekend. suck it up, loser, and buy me something nice._

_can't I just make you a cake?_ Jason asks.

_I'll accept that._

Jason spends the day baking, uninterrupted by Kori and Roy because they're out of town at a gig. He makes two desserts, actually: black magic cake for the chocolate-loving crazies like Steph, and carrot cake cupcakes for the weirdos like Kara who always insist there aren't any "healthy" alternatives.

"Should've made three," Steph says when he shows up at the bar. She grabs the chocolate cake away from him and snaps her fingers until someone hands her a fork. "The rest of you will never see any of this."

It's not true, of course. After cutting herself a slice, Steph passes the cake around, and by the time she's on her third drink and everyone's sang happy birthday to her about six different times, she's moved on from dessert.

Tim shows up later. He orders a beer and sits next to Steph in the booth, but after the third time Steph shouts in his ear, Jason makes room for him on his side.

"I gotta say," Tim tells him. "I'm a little overwhelmed here."

Jason laughs. "First restaurant family birthday party for you?"

"Uh, yeah," Tim says.

"You should've seen my last one, man. Dick made gummi bear jello shots and everyone got _toasted_."

"Everyone?" Tim asks.

"Everyone," Jason says.

"I can't decide what's more disturbing," Tim says. "The thought of Dick actually making something, or the thought of Bruce being inebriated."

Jason laughs again. "Don't judge too quickly," he starts to say, but then Steph is standing in front of them, wearing her birthday tiara, eyeliner already smudged from dancing.

"Neither of you are being sociable," Stephanie says. "I demand your attention on the dance floor."

Tim sighs and slides out of the booth, but Jason says, "I'll catch up in a minute, your majesty, promise," when he sees who just walked in.

"You better," Steph says. She drags Tim off – Tim shoots him a helpless look – and Jason keeps his eyes on Bruce as he makes his way towards the booth.

"Hey," Jason says.

"Hello, Jason," Bruce says. He's dressed, for Bruce, casually – nice-looking jeans, a shirt that doesn't require a tie, hair sort of effortlessly tousled.

"Didn't think you'd show," Jason says.

Bruce smiles at him, and maybe Jason's had too much to drink because it makes him warm all over. "Stephanie informed me that if I didn't attend, I could find a new hostess." He makes a face. "You know how much I enjoy interviewing people."

"That I do," Jason agrees. Bruce is still standing over him, not moving to sit down, just - _looking_ at him.

"Do you," Jason says, then swallows. "Do you want to grab a drink?"

"I'm all right," Bruce says. "Jason –"

"Well, I'm gonna get a drink," Jason interrupts. He gets up from the booth and Bruce follows him over to the bar. He doesn't comment when Bruce pays for him before he can fumble out any cash, just takes the drink and leans back against the counter.

They stand there in silence for a while. From here, Jason can see Steph trying to get Tim to dance with her, can see Tim trying to move his skinny little hips while Steph laughs at him. Further in the crowd there's Dick and Wally, Donna and Dinah, Conner and Kara and Cassie.

"They look happy," Bruce says.

"'Course they are," Jason says. "They're drunk and they're not at work."

"And what about you, Jason?" Bruce asks. "Are you – well?"

Jason turns to look at him. In this light Bruce's eyes look bluer than usual, and he can see the stubble forming along Bruce's jaw. "Am I well?" Jason asks him. "You mean do I still want to stab you with a pen knife for breaking my heart?"

He sees Bruce take a breath, and Jason shakes his head. "No," Jason says. "Well, not usually."

"Jason," Bruce says. His hand goes to Jason's shoulder like he can't stop it, and Jason leans into it. "I never –"

"I know, man," Jason says. He looks away, reaches for his drink again. It tastes bitter in his mouth but he slurps it down until there's nothing but ice cubes.

"You know," Bruce says. "If you ever – if you want to come back, I'd…"

Jason smiles, shakes his head at him. He leans forward until his chest is pressed to Bruce's, until Bruce's hand goes to the small of his back. "Come on, Bruce," Jason says against his back. "You know you don't have to beg."

He only kisses Bruce once. Just a press of their lips together, just long enough to remember the feel of this, how well they fit together. Then he pulls back, sits back on one of the barstools.

Steph walks over to them. Her hair's tangled up in her tiara and she's holding three shot glasses. "Jason, I warned you already about being an anti-social tool. Now you're both doing shots with me."

She holds one out to both of them, but Bruce shakes his head. "I'm too old for that, Stephanie."

"Bruce," Steph warns. "Remember my threat."

He laughs, reaches into his jacket and pulls out a card. "There's money in here," he says.

Steph grins at him, grabs the card. "You're off the hook," she says. She hands Jason the other shot. "You, on the other hand," she tells Jason.

Jason downs one shot, then the other, and then looks up at Bruce. "I should go, anyhow," Bruce says, more to Jason than to Steph. Then he glances back at Steph, adds, "Happy birthday, Stephanie. Drink lots of water."

Steph sticks her tongue out at him, then wraps her hand tightly around Jason's wrist and tugs. Jason looks back at Bruce for a few more seconds, then follows Steph out to the dance floor.

"What happened to Tim?" Jason asks, looking around. He can still see most of the girls, and Dick's still in the center of the crowd, but he doesn't see Tim anywhere.

"Went home," Steph says. "But he said to call him if any of us need a ride later." She wraps her arms around Jason's neck and starts to move with him, adds, "I think I might marry him."

"Hm," Jason says. "You might be incompatible, you know, anatomically-wise."

"Eh," Steph says. "We'd figure it out."

Jason laughs, dances with Steph for a while longer until she spots someone else she knows from one of her old jobs. Jason thinks about leaving, but then Dick makes his way over to him, leans his head on Jason's shoulder and says, "Wanna show the rest of these losers how it's done?" and Jason grins and leans back against him. 

The last thing he really remembers about the night is grinding against Dick while Dick sticks his tongue in his mouth and Wally wolf whistling behind them. Work tomorrow is going to be murder, but for a minute he's not thinking about the restaurant, about Bruce, about Tim – he's not thinking about anything.

*

Tim's quiet the next morning. At first Jason figures it's out of courtesy for Jason's raging hangover, but after they finish up danishes, Tim sticks his headphones on and proceeds to mostly avoid him.

And, whatever. Jason can talk to Alfred, can spend a little too much time harassing Dick (whose hangover is somehow worse than his, which makes Jason happy). He can text Steph pictures of her doing all the embarrassing things she got up to last night, including a three minute video of her trying to sing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" with a face full of chocolate cake.

But by 11, Jason's bored with all of that, so once he washes the cherry filling off his hands he yanks Tim's earbuds out of his ears and says, "Hey."

Tim scowls at him, but tucks the headphones away. "Hi," he says. He gets back to mixing dough, but Jason's not ready to let up. "Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Jason," Tim says. He starts scooping dough out and placing it on cookie sheets.

"Did something weird happen last night? I didn't, like, try to grope you or something, right?"

Tim looks back up at him, stares. "No?"

"Okay," Jason says. "I mean, it happens sometimes when I drink. Or just sometimes," he amends. "So, you know, if I owe you an apology or something –"

Tim throws the last of the dough on the pan, moves to stick the pan in the oven. "You don't owe me anything, Jason," he says.

"Okay," Jason says, unsure.

Tim comes back over to him, starts cleaning up. "I guess I'm just not much of a partier or anything. I get pretty uncomfortable."

"So do I," Jason says. "That's why you drink until you stop feeling that way."

Tim shakes his head, but he's smiling a little. It's the first smile Jason's seen from him all day. "Oh, is that how it works?" he asks.

"Yep," Jason says. "And then you learn how to do things you never did before, like sing all the words to _Sacred Love_ or give an over-the-pants handjob."

" _Jesus_ ," Tim says, eyes widening. "Did you –"

"Last night? No. I mean, at least not that I remember. That's why I asked."

"Oh," Tim says. He walks over to the sink, says, "Well, I mean. I'd hope you'd remember if _that_ happened."

Jason grins at him, says, "You bet your bony little ass I would. _Sacred Love_ isn't something you fuck around with."

Tim snorts. "You're a moron, Jason," he says, but he's smiling again. He even lets Jason play his music for a whole fifteen minutes without complaining.

 

*

 

Tuesday morning while he's on break, Jason stops by the office to grab his paystub from the week before. He finds Bruce half-asleep in front of the computer; he was here for inventory all last night, but he still has to work on the schedule.

"I can't believe you still won't just let Dick do that," Jason says.

Bruce grunts something in response while he grabs Jason's paystub out of the safe beside him.

"He's co-owner, B, you've got to give him some responsibilities once in a while."

"I do," Bruce says. "I leave him in charge of hiring and ordering. But the schedule is very complicated, and –"

Jason rolls his eyes. "Just admit you're a control freak, old man."

Bruce turns in his chair to look up at him. He has circles under his eyes and a five o'clock shadow, and at some point this morning he spilled coffee on his tie. "Does that bother you?" Bruce asks.

"No," Jason says. Bruce stands up, and he smells like coffee and cologne, like the eggs and bacon Jason brought him hours ago when he realized Bruce wasn't going home.

"No?" Bruce asks. There's no goddamn room in this office, especially not with Bruce's binders all over the place, Dick's collection of travel mugs that never seem to make it to the dishwasher.

"Sometimes," Jason says. He swallows, leans forward and breathes Bruce in, feels Bruce take a breath.

"Come over tonight," Bruce says. His hands circle Jason's waist and his breath tickles Jason's skin. 

"I'll be exhausted," Jason says. "Tim's making us deep-clean the ovens before we leave today."

"So take a nap when you get home," Bruce says. "Or…" And Jason hears the rest of the sentence, pictures Bruce's king-sized bed, soft sheets, two comforters because Jason always stole the covers. He hasn't really slept right in months, not since he left, always expecting to hear Bruce's soft snores next to him –

Roy snores, too, but like a goddamn bullhorn –

"I'll think about it," Jason says. He pulls back and there's a knock on the door.

"Hey," Tim says when he sees him. Bruce sits back down in his chair.

"Hey," Jason says. "You need him?" he asks Tim.

"No," Tim says. "I was looking for you, actually."

"Okay," Jason says. "Later, Bruce," he says, and Bruce yawns as Jason steps back out of the office. "What's up?"

"Um," Tim says. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just went to get my paystub," Jason says, and promptly realizes he still doesn't actually have it. Fucking Bruce. "He's not as terrifying as he seems, you know."

Tim laughs, but he waits until they've walked back to the kitchen to say, "Everyone's always telling me he's a teddy bear."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far," Jason says. "Maybe, like, a really tame lion –"

"Anyway," Tim says.

"Anyway," Jason agrees.

"I was just seeing if you wanted to grab lunch after this. You know, since I'm making you stay and everything."

"I could eat lunch," Jason says. "Here?"

"God, no," Tim says. "You think I can afford to eat here? Can _you_ afford to eat here?"

"Well, no, but I wasn't planning on paying for it…"

Dick clears his throat behind them. Jason turns back and looks at him. "Aww, Dickie, don't pretend like I didn't just see you eat half a batch of cookie dough last week."

"Wasn't baked, doesn't count," Dick says. "So where are we going to lunch?"

"Um – " Tim starts.

"Nowhere expensive, I'm guessing," Dick says.

"Well –" Tim says.

"Don't worry," Jason says. "I know the best chili dog place a couple blocks from here."

"I don't really –" Tim tries.

"Trust me," Jason says. "It's great."

 

*

 

"So," Tim says later. They're standing a little off to the side of the hotdog cart while Dick pays for their food. They both smell like oven cleaner, and Jason's going to need about three showers when he gets home. "What are you doing tonight?"

Jason shrugs. He hasn't decided whether he's going over to Bruce's place. On the one hand, Bruce cooking him dinner, and on the other –

On the other –

"Bruce invited me for dinner," he says quickly, and just like that he's decided.

"Oh," Tim says. "That's –"

But what it is, Tim doesn't finish saying, because Dick comes up to them holding three chili dogs. "Eat up, kids," Dick says. "This is the finest street meat this side of Gotham."

Tim gives his a dubious look, but Jason and Dick dive right in. "Just try it, rich boy," Jason says around a mouthful of food. "It's not your nanny's cooking, but it's pretty fucking good."

Tim flips him off, but takes a small bite of the chili dog. He chews slowly, thoughtfully, and once he swallows he says, "It's not bad."

"We tried to get Bruce to make these for us once," Dick says.

"Oh, god, I forgot about that," Jason says, laughing. "I think he wanted to murder us."

"He tried to turn these into a three-course _meal_. It's not our fault he can't cook simple."

"I caught him trying to heat up a frozen dinner a couple weeks ago," Jason says, before thinks better of it.

Dick gives him a look, but doesn't say anything. Jason glances back at Tim. "Good?" he asks.

Tim nods, swallows another bite. "Oh, hey, you got," Jason says, and reaches forward to brush off the food on the corner of Tim's mouth.

"You know," Dick says. "I just realized we didn't invite Steph."

"I'm pretty sure she'll be asleep for the next three days," Tim says, and Jason laughs. "You obviously haven't spent enough time with Steph when she drinks. She's got, like, magic powers of resilience."

"Or she's just younger than we are," Dick points out.

"That too, grandpa," Jason agrees.

"Excuse me, I may be older, but I am prettier than both of you combined," Dick says.

Jason smirks. "You won't be when I shove the rest of this chili dog in your face."

Dick gasps. "Jason, if you waste food like that I'll disown you."

"Even better," Jason teases. He kind of should've seen Dick lifting him up and throwing him over his shoulder coming. "Put me down, you fucking lummox."

"Nope," Dick says. "Not until you tell me I'm your favorite."

"Fine," Jason says. "Hold me for as long as you can, moron, but when I hurl chili con carne all over you –"

Dick puts him down. When Jason looks back over at Tim, he's kind of staring at them, like he's not sure whether to laugh or what. Then he just blinks and says, "Everyone at this restaurant spends way too much time together."

"Like in the walk-in coolers?" Dick asks, and Tim's face turns pink. "Don't feel bad," Dick says, wrapping an arm around Tim's shoulder. "One time, in the storage closet –"

"Our manager," Jason says proudly.

"Oh," Dick says, turning pink himself. "Right. Whoops. Forget I said a word."

"It's forgotten," Tim says.

Dick leaves them after finishing his food because he has to get back to work, and Tim offers Jason a ride home.

"You don't have to do that," Jason says. "I live close."

"So do I," Tim says. "It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, but –" _I was going to go to Bruce's right away and take a shower and crash in his bed and –_

"Come on," Tim says. "I'll let you play your shitty music."

Jason laughs. "You're on, asshole."

 

*

This time, Jason’s key works – he’s not six drinks in. The apartment’s quiet; he can see where Bruce dropped his jacket on the couch, his tie a few feet from that. Bruce is already snoring when Jason steps into the bedroom; the late afternoon light peeks in through the blinds. Bruce stirs when Jason climbs into bed next to him – Bruce has always been a light sleeper, prone to nightmares – but he doesn’t say anything, just turns on his side so Jason can curl up against his chest.

Six months - seven, really. That’s how long it's been since he slept in this bed, since he fell asleep with Bruce's breath against his skin, Bruce's arm wrapped around him. He's exhausted, but it takes him ages to fall asleep, too caught up in the feel of Bruce's heart beating against him.

When he wakes up, the sun's already down, and it takes him a minute to remember where he is - not Roy and Kori's awful couch, not some hotel in New York or Paris, but -

Home.

He hears Bruce puttering around the kitchen, but he doesn't get up yet. He stays in bed, nails gripping his pillow, and quietly has a panic attack. He leans off the bed and tries to grab his phone out of his jeans, but realizes he left it back at the apartment.

He should've told Roy he was coming here, should've told him to call, fake some emergency in case -

In case of what, he's not sure. He takes a deep breath, breathes in Bruce's shampoo on the pillow case, wonders if anyone else has been here in the months since he's been gone - they never talked about it, never talked about _any_ of it.

He takes deep breaths until he can feel his heartbeat slow, until he can make it out of bed, pull his jeans and his t-shirt back on and walk out of the bedroom.

When he gets into the kitchen Bruce is at the island, chopping vegetables while something else simmers on the stove. He looks up when Jason comes in, Jason's bare feet padding on the floor. He looks up, and he smiles at Jason like Jason's the greatest thing he's ever seen, like he always fucking used to before -

Before -

And Jason swallows the suffocating panic he feels coming on and asks, "Can I help?"

Bruce shakes his head. His hair is still wet from his shower, and he's wearing casual clothes, just an old t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants that Jason knows, if he looks, has a hole in the left knee from when Jason pulled them off him too quickly one time. "That's all right," he says. "Have a seat. Dinner shouldn't be too much longer. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Jason says, not realizing he is until he says it. He hasn't eaten since lunch with Tim and Dick, and that feels like ages ago. He sits down on one of the barstools, bounces his knee up and down as he watches Bruce work. Everything he does has an easy grace to it, from the way he dices tomatoes to the way he shapes and cuts the pasta dough into perfect ravioli squares.

They don't talk for a while. Jason learned a long time ago that Bruce isn't a temperamental cook, never the type to throw pots and pans around if something doesn't go right, but he does go into a kind of trance when he works, his hands doing each task automatically while his mind goes somewhere else.

It's only when Bruce starts boiling the ravioli that Bruce moves around the island to sit next to him. His knees bump Jason and Jason can smell Bruce's soap and shampoo, can smell tomato and basil and red wine. Jason leans in before he can help himself, puts his head on Bruce's shoulder and just breathes.

Bruce puts his hand on Jason's face, runs his fingers through Jason's hair and down his neck. "Did you sleep alright?" he asks.

"Mm," Jason says. "Missed your bed."

"Our bed," Bruce says.

"B -" Jason starts, but Bruce puts his thumb over Jason's mouth, kisses the top of his head. "Hush," he says. "We'll talk about it later. It's just dinner."

It's not, and they know it's not, but Jason moves out of Bruce's space, teases, "You gonna wine and dine me, Bruce?" and Bruce laughs. "I think you had plenty to drink last night."

"Yeah," Jason agrees. "Apparently I got pretty inappropriate. Imagine that."

Bruce chuckles. "I'm shocked."

"I know," Jason says. He gets up and grabs plates from the cabinet, and Bruce follows him to check on the sauce and ravioli. "I mean, I've always been so well-behaved, you know? Fucking the boss, having psychotic breaks at work…"

"It was never like that," Bruce says. Jason gives him a look, and Bruce looks down as he stirs the sauce. "Well, perhaps it was a little like that, but -"

"Breathe," Jason says. He nudges Bruce in the side with the dull end of a fork. "I'm just giving you shit."

 

*

 

It happens slowly. After dinner, Jason's doing the dishes while Bruce cleans up the kitchen, and after Bruce drops a few more dishes into the sink he touches Jason's shoulder, slides his fingers down Jason's back. Jason shivers and turns, leans back against the counter to look at Bruce and then all at once Bruce is kissing him, soft at first and then as soon as Jason touches his hips with his still-wet hands to pull him in closer, Bruce's mouth opens against his.

"God," Jason says, when Bruce moves his mouth down to kiss Jason's jaw, his neck, teeth grazing Jason's collarbone. "God, _Bruce_."

Bruce's hands still where they're drifting under Jason's shirt, and Jason says, "I didn't mean _stop_." He laughs against Jason, breath tickling Jason's skin. "Just checking," Bruce says, and instead of answering Jason reaches down, rubs Bruce through the front of his sweatpants.

" _Jay_ ," Bruce says. He's half-hard already, and Jason feels him getting harder.

"Yeah, Bruce," Jason says. "I'm right here."

Bruce kisses him again, fucks his tongue into Jason's mouth while he unbuttons Jason's jeans, pulls back and raises an eyebrow at Jason when he's greeted with nothing but skin. "What?" Jason asks. "I knew I was coming _here_."

"Mm-hm," Bruce says.

"And anyway, it's not like you dressed - up -" he cuts himself off because then Bruce is on his knees, Bruce is on his knees in front of _him_ , and Jason's not sure he's ever seen anything more beautiful. "Oh my god," Jason breathes out, and then Bruce's mouth is on him, kissing the head of his cock, darting his tongue out to lap at the underside, and when he takes Jason inside of him Jason can't do anything but grab onto the counter for dear fucking _life_ , can't do anything but watch him, but say _please_.

"Please," he babbles, when Bruce takes his mouth off his cock to lick at his balls, suck one and then the other into his mouth. "Please, please, _please_ ," he says again, when Bruce licks between his thighs, slides his tongue all over Jason's dick, getting him wet and messy.

Bruce sucks a bruise into his thigh, grabs Jason's ass in both hands to bring him closer and looks up at him. "You're always so polite when you're like this," he teases.

"Fuck you," Jason says automatically, and Bruce smirks at him, swallows Jason's cock again and then pulls off with a filthy sucking sound. "Do you want to?" he asks, and Jason _groans_. "You know what I want, Bruce," he says.

Bruce hums in agreement, but takes him in his mouth again briefly before he asks, "Bedroom?"

"Anywhere," Jason pants. "You can fuck me on the _floor_ if you want," he says, and Bruce laughs, standing up. "I'll keep that in mind," he says, but he lifts Jason's arms, puts them around his neck, and Jason automatically wraps his legs around him as Bruce picks him up.

"You sure you're up for this, old man?" Jason taunts, and Bruce responds with a light smack on Jason's ass that makes Jason bite Bruce's shoulder. Bruce carries Jason back to the bedroom, and as soon as Bruce sets him down on the bed he peels Jason's jeans down the rest of the way, pushes Jason's legs apart and gets back between them.

Jason swears again when Bruce swallows him and brushes a finger against Jason's hole. He reaches his hand out blindly, knocking over a book on the nightstand until he finds the drawer handle, pulls it open and reaches for the lube they used to keep there. He hands it off to Bruce and spreads his legs wider, and Bruce keeps sucking him off while he gets one finger in him, and then another.

"Jesus, c'mon," Jason urges, because Bruce will drag this out _forever_ if Jason lets him. He remembers lazy summer afternoons in their bed, Bruce getting him off with nothing but his fingers, not even _touching_ Jason's cock, not letting Jason touch himself either. He fucking loves Bruce's hands, loves -

Bruce gets a third finger in him, crooks his fingers just _there_ and Jason arches off the bed, heels of his feet digging into Bruce's back as he does. Bruce grunts around his cock and Jason says _please_ again until Bruce finally pulls off his cock, spit and Jason's precome on his lips.

"God," Jason says. "God, get up here," Jason says, and Bruce does. Jason grabs him by the back of the neck and kisses him, licks the taste of himself off Bruce's mouth, sucks at his upper lip and then the bottom until he can feel Bruce grinding his cock against the bed. He pulls back, says, "Get inside me."

"Jason," Bruce says. He means _are you sure_ ; he means -

"I wasn't asking," Jason says, and he helps Bruce shove his sweatpants down while Bruce gets his shirt off, and then Jason just has to _look_ at him for a second, see all that skin he's been missing, everything he's been telling himself for months that he doesn't need anymore.

He grabs the lube, squeezes some out and slicks up Bruce's cock. Bruce shudders, looks down at Jason so intensely that Jason can't stand it, can't deal with it, so he just drags Bruce in, guides Bruce's cock to him and digs his nails into Bruce's shoulder because Bruce is big, and it's been a while, and _god_ he feels good.

Bruce groans like he's dying, sounds how Jason feels, and then Bruce is all the way in him and Jason can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but say, " _Fuck me_ ," and Bruce starts to move, slow at first but as soon as Jason wraps his legs around him he moves faster, both of them desperate.

"Jason," Bruce keeps saying. "Jay," and no one else calls him that, no one else makes him fall apart like this, makes him whimper and moan and bite like Jason's doing now. His heels dig into Bruce's back and his nails scrape at Bruce's skin and when Bruce leans down and kisses him again it's all Jason can do not to bite his mouth until he bleeds.

"Harder," Jason pants out, and Bruce gives him what he needs, hits that spot inside of him each time until Jason's about to scream. Bruce's hands are behind his back, holding him, but he pulls one away to wrap around Jason's dick.

"No," Jason says, shaking his head. He pushes Bruce's hand away, drags it up to his mouth and kisses it. "Just wanna come from you," he says, and Bruce groans and puts his hand on Jason's face instead, drags him in for another desperate kiss before he wraps his arms back around Jason and flips them so that Jason's on top.

Jason gasps out, just stills for a second and sits on Bruce's cock. It feels perfect, feels like everything he needs, everything his body's been craving for -

Too long -

And then Bruce gets his hands on Jason's hips and Jason looks down at him and asks, "You want me to ride you? Want me to come all over you and lick you clean?" and Bruce's face turns pink but he gasps out _yes_ and Jason does what Bruce wants, what they both want. He bounces on Bruce's cock like he used to, like he's still a teenager, like he can do this all day and not even hurt from it later. Bruce grips his hips tight enough to bruise, and with the noise of their skin slapping against each other, with the warning sounds going off in Jason's head about how messed up this could all get again he can only just hear Bruce saying, "So beautiful, Jason, I missed you so much, _please_."

Jason slows down a little, looks at Bruce and says, "Tell me you need me."

"I always need you, Jason," Bruce says, without a moment's hesitation.

He swivels his hips again, puts his hand on Bruce's face and lets Bruce suck on his fingers before he pulls them back again. "Make me come, Bruce. Tell me to."

With a growl Bruce moves them again, sits up until Jason is sitting on his lap. He squeezes Jason's ass in both hands, leans forward and murmurs in Jason's ear, "Come for me, Jason. Fuck yourself on me and come."

And Jason does - bounces on Bruce's cock while Bruce pumps his hips into him until Jason's screaming for it, until Jason comes so _hard_ , coats his belly and Bruce's abs with it. Bruce doesn't last much longer after that, thrusts up into Jason a few more times before he's coming inside of him, biting down on Jason's bottom lip as Jason kisses him through it.

Later, when they've cleaned up a little, Bruce finishes washing the dishes while Jason makes cinnamon rolls for dessert. Bruce passes on eating one, but licks the icing from Jason's fingers, chases the sugar on his tongue until Jason drops to his knees, pulls Bruce's sweatpants down and sucks him off. After, Bruce pulls him to his feet again, turns him around and gets him off with three fingers inside of him, his hand around Jason's dick, his teeth biting Jason's neck.

They leave the kitchen a mess, stumble back to Bruce's bed and make out like horny teenagers until they doze off. For the second time that day, Jason falls asleep to the steady hum of Bruce snoring next to him.

 

*

 

He wakes up in the middle of the night. This time he knows where he is, but it doesn't stop the tightening in his chest. He gets out of bed, picks his clothes off the floor, heads back into the kitchen to grab Bruce's phone off the counter and calls the only other person he figures will still be awake.

"Bruce?" Dick answers. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"It's me," Jason says. He tries to be quiet, but he's sure Bruce is awake by now anyway.

"Jason? What are you - _oh_ ," he says, and then quieter, "Aw, Jase…"

"I know," Jason says. "Look, can you pick me up?"

"Of course," Dick says. "Give me ten minutes."

When Jason hangs up, Bruce is standing in the doorway. "I could've taken you home," he says.

"I know," Jason says. He sets the phone down, sits down on the barstool.

"But you're running again," Bruce says. 

"No," Jason says. He pulls at a loose thread at the end of his t-shirt. "It's not – I didn't _run_ , Bruce, and I'm not running now. It's just – I don't want –"

Bruce comes to stand in front of him, and Jason looks up. There's only a pale stretch of moonlight coming in through the window, but Jason can still see the hurt on Bruce's face, the disappointment. "What is it, Jason?" Bruce asks, and Jason swallows.

"It took me a long time to figure out who I am without you, Bruce," he says. "I don't want to forget again, just because…"

"All right," Bruce says. "You're right, perhaps we shouldn't have – rushed this."

"Yeah," Jason says, "like we've never done that before. Don't," he adds, when he feels Bruce pulling back. "I didn't mean anything by it. I always wanted you, B."

_I always will._

"All right," Bruce says. "May I wait with you?"

"Yeah, of course," Jason says. Bruce sits next to him, and Jason leans back against the counter, letting his eyes drift shut as Bruce pets his hair. Then Bruce's phone buzzes on the counter, and Jason says, "That's him. I'll see you, Bruce."

He doesn't mean to kiss Bruce goodbye. He means to just touch Bruce's shoulder, his arm, but before he can help it he's leaning down, stepping between Bruce's legs while he licks his way inside Bruce's mouth.

Bruce's phone buzzes again, and Jason can read the text on it from here _get off him and come outside._

"You're in luck," Dick says when Jason gets in the car. He has a smear of glitter on his cheek, and his hair's a mess. "I was designated driver tonight."

"Jesus," Jason says. "How did that happen?"

Dick shrugs, pulls out onto the street. "Lost a coin toss."

"Well, thanks anyway," Jason says. Dick nods, turns the music down. "You all right?" he asks.

"Yeah," Jason says. He leans back in the seat, and Dick looks over at him from the mirror. "Yeah, I just… It's Bruce. You know?"

"Yeah," Dick says. "I know."

They drive in silence for a minute or two, and then Dick starts chattering away about his night. "I've been playing bus driver for like an hour and a half, man. First Steph and Kara, and then by the time I got them home Donna was ready to go, and Tim –"

"Tim went out with you guys?"

"For about a minute," Dick says. "He was on his phone half the night, and then he's got to work tomorrow morning…"

"So do we," Jason points out.

"Yeah," Dick says. "Kid's got to unwind."

"Or we need to find friends who don't work at the restaurant," Jason suggests.

"Hm," Dick says, smirking at Jason from the mirror. " _There's_ an idea."

Dick's phone rings when he pulls up in front of Jason's apartment. "Hey," he answers. "No, I'm with Jason, but I'll be there in a sec. Oh, jesus, I'm sure he doesn't have - all right, yeah, I'll check. See you in a bit."

When he hangs up, Dick asks, "There's no ice cream at your place, right?"

"I don't think so," Jason says. "Who was that?"

"Wally," Dick mutters.

"Jesus," Jason says. "We've _got_ to start fucking people outside our circle."

"Hey," Dick says, pointing a finger at him. "Put the judgmental tone away. I didn't say _anything_ -"

"I know," Jason says. He takes Dick's hand, and Dick squeezes him. "Thanks," he says.

"Of course," Dick says. He looks Jason over again, for long enough that Jason starts to squirm. "You sure you're all right?"

"I will be," Jason says.

Dick lets him go, but before Jason gets out of the car he offers, "You know, you could always stay with me. I've got a couch."

"And a boyfriend," Jason says. Dick makes a face at him, and Jason laughs. "You and redheads, man."

"It's the freckles," Dick says. "They get me every time."

"Yeah?" Jason asks. "So does Wally have freckles on his –"

"Good _night_ , Jason," Dick says.

When Jason gets upstairs, Kori and Roy are both asleep in the living room, Roy's head in Kori's lap while his feet dangle over the sides of the couch. Jason thinks about waking them up, but instead he grabs his phone off the coffee table where he left it this afternoon, kicks his shoes off and lays down on their bed.

He has three texts from Roy, another two from Barbara, one from Dick, and a voicemail from Tim.

"Hey," Tim says. "I guess you're asleep, or maybe you're over at Bruce's, or – well, anyway. I was just checking in. You seemed a little weird today. I mean, weirder than normal." Jason snorts. "Anyway, man, I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night."

Jason's finger hovers over the save button, but instead he deletes the message, shoots Tim a quick text: _sry, left my phone at home. see you tomorrow, man._

*

Alfred needs Jason's help more than Tim does the next morning, so Jason doesn't see Tim until around 10:30 when they take their lunch break together. Well, Jason smokes and Tim downs a Red Bull, and they both sit at the picnic table outside and pick at the questionable leftover pasta Tim found in the fridge.

"So," Tim says. He sets his phone down, brushes a stray piece of pasta off the table.

"So," Jason agrees. Tim goes quiet again for a minute, but Jason can tell he's gathering his thoughts.

"I want to ask you something," Tim says. "But I don't want you to, I don't know, take it the wrong way or…" He flips his phone back and forth on the table until Jason stops him, puts a hand over his.

"Me and the boss, right?" Jason asks, and Tim looks back up at him. "Yeah," Tim says. "It's just – I mean – you could…"

"I could what?" Jason asks. He takes his hand off Tim, lights another cigarette. 

"You could have anyone, man," Tim says. He blushes a little when he says it, but he doesn't look away.

Jason takes a drag on his cigarette, laughs. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"How so?" Tim asks, and then, "You don't have to answer that. It's none of my business."

"No," Jason says. "It's fine. I'm not… I've never been _embarrassed_ , or whatever. It's…" He feels Tim watching him even as he looks away. He doesn't get to talk about Bruce very often, not with anyone – everyone seems to assume that he doesn't _want_ to talk, that it's none of their business, that –

"It's hard to explain," Jason says. "I mean, you're still young…"

"I'm only a year younger than you," Tim says.

Jason smirks. "Yeah, but from what I can tell, you don't sleep with everyone in your path."

Tim clears his throat, says, "I don't… I mean…"

"It's cool," Jason says. He stabs his cigarette out on the bench, stands up. Their break is just about over. "I think it's kind of endearing."

"You do?" Tim asks. He stands up, throws his trash in the bin nearby, then walks back over to Jason.

"Sure," Jason says. "Of course, if anyone accuses you of being a prude, there's always the cooler incident…"

Tim blushes again, mumbles something. "What?" Jason asks.

"We were just kissing, Jason. It wasn't even anything serious."

Jason laughs before he can help it, and Tim scowls at him. "Aw, replacement," Jason says. "Now that's just sad. It kinda makes me want to pity blow you just so you'll have a better story to tell." 

"Jesus, Jason," Tim says. He digs his key out of his pocket to let them back inside.

"What? Word to the wise, I give _really_ good head," Jason says, just as Tim gets the door open. Dick's standing right there, but he doesn't even blink, just brushes past them and says, "He's not kidding."

"You never really answered my question," Tim says later. They're just about done for the day; Tim's finishing up the tiramisu while Jason does some of the prep for the next day.

"What's that?" Jason asks. He throws the strawberry stems in the trash, starts working on pineapple for the cake they're making tomorrow.

"You and Bruce," Tim says.

"Oh," Jason says. "Haven't you…" He puts his knife down, looks over at Tim. "Haven't you ever just been with someone who made you totally fucking nuts? Like massively, head-achingly crazy?"

Tim shakes his head. "Well, that's how it's always been with us," Jason says. "I met him and I just…"

He still doesn't have the words. He was sixteen when he met Bruce, some punk kid who desperately needed a job, squatting in his dead mom's apartment, hadn't been to school in almost a year. Bruce gave him a chance when he should've sent him to a fucking social worker, and a part of Jason will always feel like he owes Bruce for that, but –

"But you left," Tim says. Not mean, not accusatory, just – quiet. Watching Jason, not paying attention to his work.

"Yeah, I did," Jason says. He doesn't say anything for a while after that, and Tim puts the tiramisu away, starts cleaning up. Jason thinks that's it, but then Tim asks, "Do you wish you hadn't left?"

"Sometimes," Jason says.

Tim bites on his lip, nods, asks, "But not always?"

"No," Jason admits. "Not always."

 

*

 

It's raining when they get out of work, so Tim offers him a ride home. Jason starts to say no, but Tim says, "If you get drenched and end up sick from it, Jason, I'm going to make _you_ soup, and trust me, you don't want me cooking."

"Fine," Jason says. It's only a ten minute drive, and when they get to Jason's place Tim asks, "What are you up to later?"

"Making dinner for Kori and Roy," Jason says. "Apparently they starved last night."

"You do a lot for them, huh?" Tim asks.

Jason shrugs. "I mean, they let me stay with them and they don't charge me rent. Basically I pay them in food and sexual favors."

"Jesus, Jason."

"What? I snag half of the ingredients from the restaurant, anyway."

" _Not_ what I meant," Tim says.

"Yeah, I know," Jason says. "Hey, listen – do you want to come have dinner with us?"

"Oh," Tim says. "I don't know if…"

"Come on," Jason says. "As a thank-you for keeping me out of the rain. Plus, Kori still wants a rematch with you on Mario Kart."

Tim grins. "Well, okay," he says. "Can I bring something?"

"Only if you want," Jason says. "Those cookies were pretty good."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Pretty good? Jason, I saw Roy lick the plate."

"Yeah, well, Roy licks a lot of things," Jason says, and Tim chokes. "Anyway," Jason says. "Just come by around seven. By that time I'll be just about done and Kori and Roy will probably have woken up."

"Probably?" Tim asks, and Jason shrugs. "Musicians," he says.

"Right," Tim says. Jason's phone buzzes in his pocket, and he digs it out and looks at it. He catches Tim looking at the caller ID. "Do you need to get that?" he asks.

"Nah," Jason says. "It can wait."

 

*

 

Bruce calls him again while he's finishing up dinner, but he lets it go to voicemail. Kori and Roy are being too loud, anyway, arguing over whether or not they're going to fire their drummer.

They're talking so loud that Jason doesn't hear the door at first. "Guys," he says.

"Not even that bad, I mean so he's late sometimes –"

"Late _every_ time, and one time I think he –"

" _Guys_ ," Jason says again. They both turn to look at him. "Door, please? Unless you want to clean barbeque sauce off everything."

Roy goes to get the door, and Kori turns off the TV. It must still be raining, because Jason can see little drops of water in Tim's hair.

"Hey," Tim says when he sees Jason. "I hope you like cheap red wine and chocolate cupcakes."

"Who doesn't?" Roy asks. He takes the tray and the bottle out of Tim's hands and shows him where to put his jacket.

Tim thanks Roy, then comes over to Jason in the kitchen. "Everything smells amazing," he says. "Can I help?"

"Jason doesn't let anyone near the food until it's already on the table," Kori says, brushing past them to grab dishes and silverware. "Too many incidents."

"Jesus, I'm not that bad," Jason says when Tim starts laughing. "Open the wine and start getting these idiots drunk," Jason says. "I'll handle the rest."

Kori and Roy keep bickering through dinner, but it gives Jason a chance to just talk to Tim. Tim keeps trying to eat his ribs gracefully, wiping at his mouth after every bite, until Jason directs his attention to Roy – Roy's entire mouth covered in barbeque sauce – and Jason says, "Trust me, there's no looking worse than that."

Tim chokes, covering his mouth with his napkin as he does. "The food's amazing, Jason," he says. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"Thanks," Jason says. Usually when Roy and Kori tell him he's any good, he figures it's because without him they'd be reduced to toast and Sour Patch Kids, but Tim's actually been around people who can cook. "Bruce, mostly," he says. "And some things I just learned to do by trying things out."

"You're really good," Tim says. "I don't know if my stomach's ever been this happy. I mean, I had stale Cheerios for dinner last night."

Jason laughs. "I could teach you a few things sometime, if you want."

"Yeah?" Tim asks.

"Yeah," Jason says. "But not here, because I'm pretty sure the smoke alarms stopped working the last time Roy tried to make breakfast."

"You try to do one nice thing," Roy sighs. "It's not like eggs come with instructions for how long to cook them."

Tim shakes his head, grins at Jason. "Yeah," he says. "We can definitely use my kitchen."

 

*

 

Tim stays for a couple hours after dinner. They finish off the wine, and then another bottle that Kori digs out of god knows where, and Tim beats them all at Mario Kart another sixteen times or so before Roy and Kori head off to band practice.

"I should probably get going, too," Tim says. His face is a little pink from drinking, and his hair's messed up from when Kori tackled him for winning _again_. "We've got that big catering thing tomorrow."

"Yeah," Jason says. He forgot about that, actually, but it's no big deal – he could make chocolate croissants in his sleep. It's only Bruce they have to worry about; he can be a bit of a nightmare when he works mornings.

"Thanks again for dinner," Tim says. He takes his wine glass into the kitchen, and Jason follows him over. Tim stretches his arms over his head, looks back at Jason and says, "You know, that couch is kind of awful."

"I know," Jason agrees. Tim's shirt lifts up when he stretches, and Jason follows that strip of skin until Tim lowers his arms. "Yet another reason I don't plan on staying here forever."

"So why don't you move out?" Tim asks. He leans back against the counter. "You must be making at least as much as I do. You could afford your own place."

He could, and he knows it. Honestly, he could've afforded it when he first came back, too.

"I guess I'm just not ready for the quiet yet," Jason says. "I haven't really lived alone since after my mom died."

"Oh," Tim says. His eyes get kind of big, and they're this really pretty shade of blue – not like Bruce's, not like anyone else's. "Sorry, that – wasn't any of my business again," Tim says. "I should really go."

He starts to turn away, out of the kitchen, but Jason stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "Tim," Jason says. Tim looks at Jason's hand, then back up at his face. "You don't gotta be so scared of me, man."

"I'm not scared of you, Jason," Tim says. "I mean, you _are_ a little intimidating, but it's not – that."

"So what is it?" Jason asks.

He kind of knows. He kind of does, but it still surprises him when Tim goes for it, puts his hand on the back of Jason's neck, tilts his head up and kisses him. His lips are soft against Jason's and his hand is warm on the back of Jason's neck, and when Jason puts his hand on Tim's cheek his mouth opens in a soft gasp.

Jason moves forward, presses Tim back against the counter, tastes wine and sugar as he slides his tongue into Tim's mouth. Tim tightens his grip in Jason's hair, spreads his legs wider so Jason can stand between them.

Then Tim puts his other hand on Jason's face, and Jason breaks the kiss, leans his chin on Tim's shoulder and breathes out, "Ah, fuck."

"Is that good or bad?" Tim asks.

"It's –" Jason pulls away to look at Tim. His face is an even darker shade of pink now, eyes heavy-lidded from the wine. "You know how messy this could get, right?"

"It doesn't have to," Tim says. "I mean, everyone else at the restaurant –"

"Everyone else at the restaurant isn't _you_ , man," Jason says, and it comes out wrong, or maybe too right, because Tim's eyes get wide and Jason's face feels hot.

"I just," Jason says. "I mean, you're not – you can do a hell of a lot better, Tim. Trust me."

For a long time, Tim doesn't say anything. Jason gives him some room, packs up the leftovers from dinner now that they've cooled off and wipes down the counter. After a while Tim starts in on the dishes, and by the time they're done the place looks decent again.

"Can I give you a ride tomorrow morning?" Tim asks when Jason follows him to the door to lock up. "That way you wouldn't have to get up so early."

"Tim…"

"It's just a ride, Jason. It's not like I'm asking for road head." Jason laughs, surprised. "Fine," Jason says. "Just get ready for 4AM Bon Jovi."

Tim makes a face, and Jason closes the door behind him still singing _Dead or Alive_.

 

*

 

The next morning is a blur. Jason could make pastries in his sleep, sure, but he's forgotten what it's like to work with Bruce breathing down his neck, and the third time Bruce reminds him and Tim that they have a lot to do and not much time to do it in, Jason almost snaps.

But Tim nudges his side, waits until Bruce is back on his side of the kitchen and says, "Kind of makes you wish Dick were here to drop everything, huh?"

Jason laughs and then Tim does, too, face lighting up with it. It's not the time, not at all, but he says, "Sorry about that last time, man. If I was you, I would've kicked my ass."

"Yeah, well," Tim says. He switches pans with Jason, and Jason starts topping the pastries with fruit while Tim starts putting cream on the next batch. "I kinda wanted to for about a minute."

"And then?" Jason asks, and Tim shrugs. "What can I say? You've got a nice ass."

Instead of taking a break once they finish the order, they decide to work straight through the rest of the day. Bruce retreats to the office to work on the schedule or take a nap or whatever; Jason doesn't see Bruce again until it's time to go and he stops by Bruce's office.

"Sorry I didn't call you back yesterday," Jason says.

"That's fine," Bruce says. "I only wanted to know that you're all right." He turns in his chair to look up at Jason. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, and he's already taken off his tie. He looks exhausted.

"Are you all right, Jason?" Bruce asks. He doesn't ask _are we all right_ , but Jason knows it's – there.

He takes a seat in the small folding chair next to Bruce. Dick leaves it in here sometimes if he and Bruce count the safe together. His knees knock against Bruce's leg.

"I'm – getting there, Bruce," Jason says. "There's still a lot. I still…"

Bruce reaches out, and his hand hovers over Jason's shoulder, but he seems to think better of it and rests his hand back on the desk instead. "I just want you to know, Jason, that whatever you decide to do, you have my support. There's – there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Jason."

He says the words like they're vapor, like they're perfectly acceptable to say in this office, in this place, far from the apartment where Jason grew up, far from the bed Jason never thought he'd want to leave.

And he knows they're all true, knows –

God, but he loves Bruce so much it's like a sickness, something that claws at his insides and leaves him with nothing.

"Thank you, Bruce," Jason says.

Bruce nods, and there's a knock on the door – Tim, they can both see from the security camera.

"I notice you've been getting along a lot better," Bruce says. "I appreciate that."

Jason knows Bruce means well by it, but it makes something in his blood simmer, the same something that would spark up when Bruce would ask him to do the dishes a certain way, would ask him not to be so affectionate in public. "I didn't do it for you, Bruce," Jason says. 

He steps out of the office and Tim's waiting for him, flour in his hair and a bit of raspberry filling on his neck from the new recipe they've been trying out. "Want a ride back home?" Tim asks.

"No," Jason says. "Let's stop at the store. _You're_ gonna make us dinner tonight."

 

*

 

On Saturday, Jason drags Barbara along with him to look at apartments. "Remind me again why I agreed to this," she says, after the third awful apartment they've seen.

"Because I'm your favorite?" Jason asks.

Barbara glares at him, starts her car and heads off to the next place. "Try again," she says.

"Because you're a good friend?" Jason tries.

"Eh," Barbara says. "Closer, I guess."

"Because I'm going to convince Tim to make those cookies for you, _and_ I'm making dinner for you tonight?"

"Much better," Barbara says. She grins at him, turns up the music and rolls down the windows. The sun hits the flecks of gold in her red hair, the spray of freckles on her nose. "I have a good feeling about this next place, Jason," she says. "It's kind of far from work, but the view is great and there's this amazing little coffee shop across the street."

"Is that a hint?" Jason asks.

"Yes," Barbara says. "I haven't caffeinated in over seventy minutes, kid. Get me a latte or walk home."

The apartment _is_ pretty great – fifth floor, a balcony that overlooks the Gotham skyline. It's miles from the kind of place where Jason spent his childhood, but it's not like Bruce's place, either.

"Rent's kind of steep," Jason says as they walk back out. "But that kitchen…"

"You could _live_ in that kitchen, Jason. And if you got a job where someone actually pays you enough…"

"Bruce pays enough," Jason mutters, and Barbara rolls her eyes at him. "Do you even know what someone with your skill set is supposed to make? Because _I_ do."

"Barbara…" Jason starts, and Barbara sighs. "Fine," she says. "Lecture over for the afternoon. But just think about it, Jason, okay?"

"I will," Jason promises.

"Good," Barbara says. "Now call the new kid and see how fast he can bring us some cookies."

Jason laughs. "He has a name, you know," he says, but he texts Tim and gives him Barbara's address so he can meet them there later.

 

*

 

"Aren't you afraid we'll burn down Barbara's kitchen?" Tim asks. He came over early to help Jason with dinner. So far, they had one small kitchen fire at Tim's place last week, but Tim made orange chicken the other day that could almost be called edible.

"Nah," Jason says. "Barbara's so intimidating she'd scare off any fire in a ten mile radius."

"I heard that," Barbara says from her desk in the living room.

"He's got a point, though," Steph says. She invited herself over for dinner as soon she heard Jason was cooking, then claimed to be helping by stepping under Jason's feet to make drinks. Jason can't really complain after two of Steph's daiquiris, though.

"You _are_ kind of terrifying," Steph tells Barbara. "No offense."

She gets in Tim and Jason's way again, nearly upending the marinade Jason's making for the chicken. Jason gives up and clears a space on the counter so she can chop vegetables. "If you're going to be in our way, you might as well be useful."

"Oh my god," Steph says. "Who invited _Bruce_?"

Jason and Tim both stop what they're doing and look at her. Barbara even turns from whatever she's working on to look over, and Steph's face turns bright pink. "Sorry," she says. "I said the 'B' word. It's the drinks."

"It's fine," Jason says. Steph gets back to chopping and Barbara turns back to her computer, but Tim's still looking at him from the stove where he's stirring the couscous.

They get through dinner with minimal awkwardness. Steph tells them stories about her new boyfriend – only half of which are probably true – and Barbara pulls herself away from her work long enough to eat at the table with everyone.

After dinner the girls offer to clean up, and Tim and Jason take a seat on the couch. "I think maybe I found an apartment today," Jason says.

"Yeah?" Tim asks. 

"Yeah," Jason says. "It's a little far from work, but who knows how much longer I'll be there anyway, right?"

Tim stops with his drink halfway to his mouth, stares at Jason. "What do you mean?"

Jason shrugs. "I mean, it's your job. I only came back to get under your feet, show Bruce –" he clears his throat. Tim looks down for a second, then back up. 

"Jason," Tim says. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing, I don't –"

Tim puts his hand over Jason's. There's a burn scar on Tim's knuckle from a few days ago, a scratch from the edge of one of the counters. "Jason," Tim says. "I wouldn't even be there if it wasn't for you, moron."

"What?" Jason asks. His mouth is dry. He can hear the girls in the kitchen singing along to Beyonce, can hear Barbara's neighbors watching football upstairs, can hear his own heart beating in his ears.

"Jason, I told you before," Tim says. "I spent months listening to everyone tell stories about you. There were pictures up on the bulletin board of you. You looked so happy…"

He knows what pictures Tim's talking about. There are a few from over the years, of all of them, but he's sure the one Tim means is the one of him and Bruce after the restaurant won some prestigious award or other. To celebrate Jason made Bruce a cake, smashed a slice right in Bruce's face before the picture was taken.

"I just," Tim says. "I kept thinking if things had been different, maybe…"

He stops, but Jason hears the rest of it anyway, feels the way Tim's looking at him. "Fuck," he breathes out. "And I was such a dick to you."

Tim shrugs. "You were hurting. I get it."

"Yeah, but –"

" _Pretty Woman_ or _Raiders_?" Steph asks, coming back into the living room.

"What?" Jason asks, not turning away from Tim.

"Babs and I can't decide," Steph says. "But you guys know how I feel about Julia Roberts."

"Uh-huh," Jason says. He looks up at Steph. She's holding two more drinks, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her arm. "You know, I think I'm gonna go, Steph."

"But," Steph says. "Indy."

"I'll take you home," Tim says. 

" _Pretty Woman_ it is," Barbara says, smirking at Steph. "Thanks for dinner, guys," she says pointedly, and Steph rolls her eyes. "Yeah, whatever, assholes. Watch out the next time _you_ need a tiebreaker."

But she hugs them goodbye, and walks them over to the door while Barbara sets up the movie. They make it about ten feet down the hallway before Jason stops Tim, puts a hand on his arm.

"What is it? Did you forget something?" Tim asks, and Jason shakes his head, puts his hand on Tim's chest until Tim's backed up against the wall.

"Jason," Tim starts. "What –"

Jason kisses him. Not hesitant like the other night, not just _humoring_ him, but hard and greedy, until Tim's breathing hard against him, until Tim's hands are gripping his arms, not to push him away but to pull him in tighter.

"Fuck," Tim says, when Jason pulls back to nip at his bottom lip. "Jason, what –"

He leans forward, mouth right up close to Tim's ear. "Tell me to come home with you," he says.

"Fuck," Tim says again. "Jason."

"I _am_ sorry, you know," Jason says. "For how I was."

Tim lets out a shuddery breath, pushes Jason back enough to look at him. His mouth is already red from where Jason kissed him, and Jason just wants to mess him up more. "So make it up to me," Tim says, and Jason says, "God, _yeah_ ," before kissing him again.

 

*

 

They barely make it to Tim's apartment. When they get outside, Jason presses him up against the car, fucks his tongue into Tim's mouth until Tim's pushing him away and gasping out, "My place. Now."

It's a fifteen minute drive, and Tim gets there in eight. Jason hates this part, hates the waiting, but before they go upstairs Tim stops the car, leans over the seat and kisses Jason again. "You sure?" he says against Jason's mouth.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jason asks. "Let's _go_ before I get come on your seats."

Tim laughs and drags Jason upstairs, and they only just get into the apartment before Jason kisses him again, pushes him back against the closest surface and gets his hands under Tim's shirt.

"God," Jason says. "You're so fuckin' tiny. I could break you in _half_."

"Jason," Tim says. He shivers when Jason runs his fingers over his abs, lifts his arms so Jason can get his shirt off. 

Jason rubs his thumbs over Tim's nipples, sucks a bruise into Tim's collarbone. "Hey," Jason says against him. "What do you like?"

"I," Tim says. "Anything, Jason, I don't –"

He puts his hand in Tim's hair, tugs his head back and licks at Tim's neck. "Not an answer," Jason says. "What do you _want_?" he asks, and he presses between Tim's legs, feels Tim getting hard. "What do you think about when you're getting yourself off?"

"You," Tim says, and the honesty is almost too much for Jason, but he just asks, "Yeah, but _what_?"

"Jesus, Jason, I –"

Jason slips his hand under Tim's waistband, grabs him. "Still not an answer," he says. He slides his thumb over the head of Tim's dick. " _Tell_ me."

"Your mouth," Tim says. "I've been thinking about –"

"Yeah?" Jason asks. "What about my mouth?"

"Want it on me," Tim says. He pulls at his jeans, impatient, until Jason helps him get them off.

"Yeah?" Jason pushes Tim's briefs down, licks his lips. "You wanna fuck my mouth?"

" _Yes_ ," Tim breathes out.

"Right here?" Jason asks.

"Anywhere," Tim says. He bucks into Jason's hand, and he looks so desperate for it that Jason doesn't want to stop looking at him for even a second.

"Okay," Jason says, and then he drops to his knees, and Tim _whimpers_ when Jason gets his mouth around him. He pets helplessly at Jason's hair when Jason starts to take him in, but he doesn't move his hips, and Jason pulls off and looks back up at him. "Don't be afraid to be rough with me, baby," he says. "Fuck me _up_."

He gets his mouth back on Tim and Tim _groans_ , grips Jason's hair harder, shoves Jason down onto his dick. He can hear Tim panting above him, can see the sweat dripping off Tim's forehead as he lets go and just uses Jason's mouth. He's babbling the whole time, saying Jason's name, saying _please_ , gasping when his cock hits the back of Jason's throat.

Jason loves this. Loves being so full, loves every noise Tim makes for him, loves how much _Tim_ is into this. He keeps one hand on Tim and uses the other to unbutton his jeans, grips himself tight and starts to stroke.

Tim shakes underneath him, rocks his hips against him until Jason's breathing in the scent of him, mouth completely full of him. He can tell by the way Tim's breaths get even shorter that Tim's about to come, and he pulls off. 

"What do you want?" Jason asks him. "You wanna come on my face? In my mouth?"

"God," Tim says. "Your – your mouth, Jason, please let me, please –"

Jason swallows him back down, hums around Tim when he feels him hit the back of his throat again, stares up at Tim as he throws his head back and comes hard, gripping Jason's face with both of his hands. Jason swallows his come, keeps licking Tim clean until Tim whimpers and pushes him back, too sensitive to take any more.

"God," Tim says. "God, you –" He kneels down so he's in front of Jason, pushes Jason's chest and Jason falls back against the floor, only just manages not to brain himself on the tile before Tim's crawling on top of him and kissing him.

Tim reaches down, bats Jason's hand away from his cock and wraps his own around it, sucks kisses into Jason's jaw, his neck. "Want you inside of me," Tim says. "Want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."

"God, baby," Jason gasps out. He drags Tim up, bites his mouth, his throat, the shell of his ear. "I'll fuck you 'til you can't _see_ ," he promises, and then Tim's fucking his tongue into his mouth, and Jason rolls them so they're on their sides, puts his hand over Tim's on his dick and moves them faster. He sucks on Tim's tongue, grabs Tim's leg and wraps it around them, squeezes Tim's ass as he pumps his dick into their hands and comes.

After, he rolls onto his back, just missing a piece of pasta from when he helped Tim cook penne arrabiata. Tim rests his head against Jason's chest, and Jason brings Tim's hand up to his mouth and licks him clean.

"Fuck," Tim says. Jason looks down at him, asks, "You all right?" and Tim's breath brushes his skin as he laughs.

"I'm great, Jason. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to move again, but I'm great."

"Hm," Jason says. He runs his clean hand through Tim's hair, rubs at the nape of his neck. "I seem to remember you saying something about a really great bed."

"I said a fantastic bed," Tim corrects. "But if you plan on getting me there, you're either going to have to carry me or wait a couple minutes."

"Careful what you ask for," Jason says, and then he pushes himself up from the floor, pulling Tim with him. Tim wobbles, still half in and half out of his pants, but Jason scoops him up like he weighs as much as a sack of flour.

"Christ," Tim says, as Jason starts toward his bedroom. "You really didn't have to –"

Jason sets him down on the bed, kicks off his shoes and lies back next to Tim. "Fuck," he says. "You weren't kidding."

Tim turns on his side to look at him. They left the light off, but Jason can see him from the light that peeks in from the kitchen. He looks tired but happy, and when Jason says, "C'mere," he curls up against Jason, tucks his head into the crook of Jason's neck. 

"Don't run, okay?" Tim asks, and he knows Tim must feel him tense up, but Jason says, "I'm not."

"I'll make it worth your time," Tim promises, and Jason chuckles, kisses the top of Tim's head and says, "You got yourself a deal, replacement."

"Mm," Tim says, pressing further against Jason. He smells like sweat and soap, like citrus and rum. "Like it better when you say my name."

It takes a while for Jason to fall asleep – Tim doesn't snore, but he does squirm, twists himself into the sheets until Jason wraps his arm around him and drags him in closer. He wakes up in the middle of the night and panics for a second when he doesn't know where he is, but Tim mutters, "I mean it, Jason, go back to sleep," and Jason steals some of the covers back from Tim and does what he's told.

 

*

 

In the morning, Jason walks down to the convenience store across the street and picks up a couple things, and by the time Tim wakes up Jason's got a plate of crepes, bacon and sausage on the counter for him.

"And coffee, too?" Tim asks, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and reaching for the cup with the other. "I think I might have to keep you."

"Hm," Jason says. "Try the crepes first."

Tim takes a bite, follows it up with another three. "Jesus, Jason," he says. "Why don't you make these at the restaurant?"

Jason shrugs. "We're not open for breakfast, and we have tons of other desserts. Bruce never thought there was much point."

"Unbelievable," Tim says, shaking his head. There's whipped cream on his bottom lip, and when Jason reaches over to brush it off, Tim sucks Jason's thumb into his mouth.

"Fuck," Jason says. Tim pulls off, smirks. "Finish your breakfast," Jason says shakily, and Tim does, dropping his fork and picking each crepe up with his hands, getting strawberries and whipped cream all over his hands and mouth. When he's done Jason pushes him back against the counter, lifts Tim's hand to his mouth and licks his fingers clean, leans forward and does the same with Tim's mouth until Tim's wide-eyed and panting under him, dick tenting his briefs.

Jason palms Tim's dick through the cloth and when Tim says _please_ , he picks Tim up and sets him on the counter. " _Jason_ ," Tim says, and Jason leans forward, licks at Tim's abs, down over the sparse hairs above the waistband of his briefs, runs his mouth over the head of Tim's cock again and again until Tim grunts out, "God, quit _teasing_ ," and Jason grins up at him and says, "Darlin', I could do this all day. You got somewhere to be?"

" _No_ ," Tim gasps out, and Jason says, "Good." He licks Tim's thighs, bites one and then the other. "Because I'm gonna suck you off until you scream, and _then_ I'm gonna get you back in that nice bed of yours and fuck you."

"God," Tim says. " _Please_."

"How do you like it?" Jason asks. Tim lifts his hips so Jason can peel his briefs down. "Slow fucks that last all day?" he licks the underside of Tim's cock, cups Tim's balls. "You want me to pound you into the mattress? You wanna ride me?"

"Jesus," Tim says. He puts his hands on Jason's shoulders, trying to drag him forward. "'Course," Jason says. "You could always fuck _me_." He sucks the head of Tim's cock into his mouth, swirls his tongue around it. "It's up to you, really," he says, and looks back up at Tim.

"Anything," Tim says. "Anything, Jason, just – _please_."

"Mm," Jason says. "Like hearing you beg. But you gotta know what you want, baby." He takes Tim inside of him, sucks him all the way down, and Tim pants out, "Yours. Just – just wanna be _yours_ , Jason."

And Jason pauses, can hear Bruce in his head making the same promises, and he needs to call Bruce soon, needs to see him, needs to know that he's all right, but Tim –

"Is that," Tim says. "Is that okay? Or is this just –"

Jason pulls off him, looks up at Tim again. He's beautiful, and Jason's always known it – it's why he was so gut-achingly jealous at first, until he actually talked to Tim, until –

"Hey," Jason says. He reaches up, touches Tim's face, and Tim grabs for him, kisses the palm of his hand, each one of his fingers.

"It's just," Tim says. "You stayed. When I woke up this morning, I thought maybe – but you stayed."

"Yeah," Jason says. It surprised him, too. When he went out for food, he thought about not coming back, about shrugging it all off as just another one of his co-workers he fucked around with, just someone else with a story to tell about him. He thought about calling Bruce and saying _leave the door unlocked, I'm coming home_ , but –

But Tim –

"We'll talk about this," Jason promises. "Soon. But let me get you off first, okay?"

"Yeah," Tim says, and Jason swallows him down, takes things slow this time, brings Tim right to the edge and then pulls back, over and over until Tim's practically sliding off the counter to get further inside of him, until Tim's nails are digging into his shoulders and he's breathing down on Jason.

Jason licks him clean, helps Tim off the counter and pulls his briefs up. Tim sways a little, his feet on top of Jason's, and Jason laughs, kisses his forehead and says, "It's all right, Tim, I got you."

They go back to Tim's bed, and instead of fucking Tim stupid like he wants to, he tells Tim everything – about growing up, about Bruce. He lays his head on Tim's stomach and just talks for a long time, less to Tim and more to the dumb kid who fell in love too young.

"I was so wrapped up in him I didn't care what anyone thought. My mom was dead, my dad was gone, I didn't have any family, but Bruce… he was mine, you know?"

"He was your world," Tim says.

"Yeah," Jason agrees. "For a long time, I didn't know who I was without him. I'd go to work with him, come home to him – Dick and Roy would take me out sometimes, but it wasn't…" Jason swallows. "I left for a lot of reasons. We were always fighting, I'd fuck off for days at a time just to make him call me and tell me to come home. I guess it was pretty fucked up."

He tilts his head up to look at Tim. "You were young, Jason," he says. "You still are. And if you decide to go back to him –"

Jason sits up, moves so he's straddling Tim, puts his fingers over Tim's mouth. "I'm not going back," Jason says, and he doesn't know it's true until he says it, until he hears the words himself. He pulls his hand back, and Tim takes it in is. "Okay," Tim says. "But he should know that, too."

 

*

 

While Tim showers, Jason spends ten minutes with his phone in his hand, first texting Bruce, then starting to call him, then typing a text message again. By the time Tim comes out of the shower, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and steam trailing behind him, Jason has managed to type exactly two sentences: _Meet me at the coffee shop on Beecher. The one with the scones?_

Anyone else would think he was nuts, but he knows Bruce will remember, and sure enough, five minutes later, when Tim's put on jeans and a t-shirt and handed Jason a shirt to borrow, there's a text from Bruce: _all right._

Tim drives him over and offers to wait, but Jason tells him it's okay. "I think I should go home after this, anyway. Roy just texted me to ask if I still live there."

"Okay," Tim says. "But if you change your mind…"

"Yeah," Jason says. When he walks into the coffee shop, Bruce is already there, an espresso and an untouched plate of scones in front of him.

"You think they're still hard enough to bruise?" Jason asks when he sits down, and Bruce looks up and smiles at him. He looks good. He's wearing a light blue button-down that just about matches his eyes, and he looks like he got a decent night's sleep.

"I don't know," Bruce says. "Were you planning on throwing one at me again?"

"We'll see," Jason says, and then before he can change his mind, "I'm not leaving the restaurant."

Bruce pauses with his espresso cup halfway to his mouth, sets it down again. "All right," he says carefully.

"I just," Jason says. "I just wanted to get that out there. Because I love that place, Bruce, and it's mine, too."

"I know that, Jason," Bruce says. "I – when you left, it felt – wrong, somehow."

"Yeah," Jason says. Six months, six months living and working other places, and nothing felt as much like home as watching Dick drop every item of food he came into contact with, listening to Donna and Wally bitch about all the regulars, taste testing every one of Alfred's new recipes. He missed Bruce, missed him like a limb, but –

"So I'm not leaving," Jason says. "But…"

"But you're not coming back to me," Bruce finishes for him, and they're Jason's words in Bruce's mouth, but Jason still feels like he's been punched in the stomach.

"No," Jason says, and he doesn't know why his hands won't stop shaking, why he can't breathe, why he's the one losing his shit in some _terrible_ coffee shop while Bruce just sits there calmly.

Bruce reaches for him, puts his hand over his on the table. "Jason," Bruce says. "It's all right."

"The fuck it is," Jason says, and Bruce laughs, squeezes his hand. "If we were having this conversation a couple of months ago, I'd agree with you," Bruce says. "But you've changed, Jason. You've grown up."

"Bruce," Jason says. "It's two in the afternoon and for breakfast I ate a pack of Skittles from Tim's glove compartment. Define _grown up_."

"You don't need me anymore," Bruce says. "I used to think – I used to think I'd done something terrible, needing you so much. Making _you_ need me. I still think maybe I did."

"Bruce…" Jason says. His chest hurts, and part of him wants to take back everything he said, tell Bruce to take him home with him and not let him leave again because it's too difficult, because getting over Bruce nearly killed him, but –

"Whether it's Tim, or someone else," Bruce says. "I just want you to be happy, Jason. Can you do that for me?"

 _Anything._ "Yeah," Jason says. "Yeah, Bruce, I'll try."

Bruce hugs him before he leaves, and he's warm and he smells amazing, and Jason sits in the coffee shop and breaks all the scones on the plate into little pieces until Dick comes by to pick him up.

"You know you did the right thing, right?" Dick asks once they're in the car. Queen is on the radio and the air conditioning's blasting, and he has a text message from Tim asking how it went, another from Barbara asking if he heard from the apartment yet.

"Yeah," Jason says. He thinks of the way Tim kissed him this afternoon, his mouth still sticky with sugar, thinks of Bruce smiling at him, warm and perfect and holding things together for him. "Yeah, I know."

"He's gonna be fine, Jase," Dick says. "He survived losing his parents _and_ Steph taking over as hostess. You think he's gonna cry over _you?"_

Jason laughs until he realizes he's crying a little, too, and Dick watches him from the mirror, breaks his own rule and lets Jason smoke in the car until they get to Roy and Kori's apartment.

"Thanks," Jason says. "I owe you, like, a million."

Dick shrugs. "I accept both hugs and blowjobs," he says, and Jason punches his shoulder. "Asshole," he says, and Dick says, "That was _nowhere_ on the list, but I'll bear in mind that you're distressed and off-balance at the best of times."

"Yeah, yeah," Jason says. "Love you, too."

When he gets upstairs, Roy and Kori both hug him like they haven't seen him in a decade, and Kori offers to make him something to eat, but Jason just kisses them both on the cheek and says, "I'm gonna sleep for about half a century. Order us a pizza tonight, okay?"

He digs his phone out of his pocket, shoots Tim a quick text, turns his phone off and collapses onto the couch. Everything can wait, just for a minute.

 

*

 

Monday morning, Tim offers to pick him up for work again, but Jason takes the bus, keeps his headphones in his ears while he reads Roy's texts from last night.

_Star City is a wasteland._

_$6 for a beer when we're the opening act? ISN'T THAT ILLEGAL_

_kori says don't forget to eat_

_if you move out who's going to feed us???_

_kori says we'll probably have to revoke your threesome privileges, too. we're both crushed._

At work he and Tim work quietly, the way they always do before the coffees and the Red Bulls kick in. Dick and Alfred come in at 8, and Dick hangs around just long enough to knock a bowl of blueberries and a carton of half and half to the floor before retreating to the office.

By 9, the caffeine's kicked in and Jason's singing along to REO while Tim makes pained faces at him, and when he takes his smoke break at 10, there's a message on his phone about the last apartment he and Barbara looked at.

"I don't know," Jason says later, when he and Tim take their lunch. Tim dismantles a blueberry muffin and Jason lies back on the bench of the picnic table smoking. "I haven't lived by myself in years."

"Even when you were gone?" Tim asks.

"There were always people around," Jason says. "And anyway –"

Anyway, there were always ghosts around him then, Bruce's voice in his head.

"You'll be fine," Tim says. "And you know you're always welcome at my place, too."

Jason sits back up, grins at Tim. "Your place is a fucking _mess_ , Drake."

" _You're_ a mess," Tim shoots back, and Jason flips him off. "Listen," Tim says. "I have to tell you something."

"Tim," Jason warns. "If you're breaking up with me, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"You could _try._ "

Jason smirks. "Believe me, baby, I'd succeed."

Tim throws a blueberry at him. "I wanted to _tell you_ that I was thinking about finding a different job. That way you could have this one back, and –"

Jason comes around the table and sits down, gets right up in Tim's space. "Jackass," Jason says. "You wanted this job so bad you fucking _stalked_ this place."

Tim blushes, licks his lips. "Well, yeah, but –"

"I mean, how many times did you come by while I was gone?"

"Every day," Tim says. "And even before that, I -"

"Exactly," Jason says. "This place is yours just as much as it's mine, replacement."

"Stop calling me -"

" _Tim_ ," Jason says. 

"All right," Tim says. "You win."

"I usually do. Besides," Jason says. He squeezes Tim's thigh, leans forward and inhales cinnamon and sugar and the soap Tim uses. "Didn't I promise to blow you in the walk-in cooler?"

"Jason –" Tim starts, and Jason cuts him off and kisses him, tastes blueberry and raw sugar, and when he pulls back Tim says, "I mean, you didn't specify a location."

Jason grins. "See?" he asks. "You _totally_ fit in here. You don't get to leave." He kisses Tim again and they make out on the picnic table until Jason's phone buzzes in his pocket.

"Get your tongues out of each other's mouths and get back to work," Dick says.

"There are cameras out _here_?" Tim asks, and Jason smirks at him. "Yep. Why, what have you been doing out here?"

"Nothing," Tim says, but blushes again, and Dick laughs down the line. "Amateur," Dick says.

"Jealous," Jason fires back.

"Whatever," Dick says. "Just get back to work. There aren't any cookies yet and I'm _starving_."

Jason sighs and hangs up, drags Tim off the bench with him. "Don't worry," he says. "I'll show you where all the cameras _aren't_."

"Or we could just keep our hands off each other at work," Tim points out, and Jason raises an eyebrow. "Sorry," Tim says. He smiles at Jason, and Jason traces the lines of it with his thumb, crowds Tim back against the door. "That was a bad joke."

"Mm," Jason agrees. He kisses Tim's cheek, the top of his head, the little scrape of stubble left on his jaw. "Come on," he says then, "let's go tell Dick we're out of chocolate chips."


End file.
